Finding Shinji
by keyascribe
Summary: After three years away, Shinji returns to Tokyo, but can he and Kamio find their old rhythm? A Fudoumine goodness fic.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Shinji wanted to do the disclaimer explaining that Prince of Tennis is not mine (also please see the A/N) but his explanation took too long so I had to delete it . . . . .**

**WARNING: Spoilers for Genius 307 & Fudoumine's fate at the Nationals **

**RATED: Only friendship in this part . . . . M for a little swearing.**

**PAIRINGS: Kamio/Shinji, Tachibana/Atobe, An/Kirihara, every doubles pair, ever. **

**A/N: Lately I've had such a craving for Fudoumine . . . yes, I'm sorry, I like Kamio/Shinji even more than HijiOki . . . and then I remembered a fragment of story from Neynaoe at Ibu-Shinji . com . . . . and I truly and humbly hope that wherever that person is, because I couldn't find any way to contact them, they forgive me for taking their premise and running with it. The first italicized part of this section is a paraphrase of the original story I'm building off of, and thus is **_**not mine**_**, although I edited and tweaked. And while I don't actually think Shinji would ever run away because frankly he's not that **_**active**_**, wow, what a lovely idea it is.  
**

* * *

Finding Shinji

* * *

Part One:

_I__n which Shinji is lost and then found_

* * *

_The whole situation was nasty. If that was the fitting word for it which Kamio really doubted. They had spent so much effort – effort was also an inadequate word – hoping that they could rise to the challenge of Nationals and not quite realizing that there was a limit to how far and fast a human could rise and they had used up an entire year's reservoir already. _

_They didn't admit it, wouldn't admit it, and then Shinji broke down, legs, wrist suddenly collapsing, looking completely lost like a little child under the unexpected onslaught of power from someone who _was_ just a child. That was when they knew it wasn't going to be a fairytale ending, just an inevitable fighting collapse. _

_They did fight, and they did collapse; they did their best and everyone knew it. They did their best and when their game was over, when it was clear that 'giving your best' wasn't enough . . . they got on the public bus and left. _

_One of them did even more. _

_Nasty. Not heart-breaking or soul-shattering. All Kamio could think of was nasty. Shinji was the one who was good at writing, after all._

_When Shinji didn't come to school even on the third day after their loss, it was clear that nasty was indeed the wrong term. Kamio walked – sprinted, really, heart pounding – over to Shinji's house and found that it wasn't Shinji's house anymore, just an empty building with a Sold sign in front. _

_It was a western-style house, had always looked like something out of a horror movie, but now it felt that way too. Some Thing had come and taken his best friend away. And Kamio hadn't been fast enough to stop it.  
_

_--_

_Shame wasn't the right word, it was too simple to describe what he felt. Everyone had given their best, all of them had made Tachibana-san proud of his team. Everyone except for him. Hadn't Tachibana-san warned him he needed to work on his strength, that technique alone couldn't always beat an opponent. He never beat anyone when it mattered. Still, he had thought he could win. So stupid. Ridiculous. Right there in what seemed like seconds, he had lost harder and faster than he ever had in his whole life in tennis – in _anything.

_Even when none of them talked about it, it was obvious what they all thought – An-chan, Tachibana-san, Akira - everyone on the team, everyone the team knew. Even the people who just passed by, saw the brace on his wrist proving he had been too weak; they all knew that it was his fault. His fault for not winning the first game, his fault for not showing their opponents their place; his fault that the players hadn't made mistakes in the later games because they felt insecure, worried because – "We already lost a game to him?! What if the others are even better?" That was what they should have thought. Not "We won easily, this team isn't even worth breaking a sweat over." Not "He freaked in the middle of the game, what a bunch of losers." _

_Nobody had said it out loud but he could see it in their eyes... and his team saw it too. Tachibana-san, Akira . . . they knew. So when the game was over and everyone was gone, even Seigaku who just came by to watch them lose, he made the decision that it would never happen again. Fudoumine would never again lose because of him. Akira and Tachibana-san, Ishida and Sakurai, Mori, Uchimura, An-chan . . . they would never have to look at him like this again. _

_It was something like fate. His father had gotten an offer from a big firm just two days before the disaster happened; Shinji would of course stay behind in an apartment, stay for Fudoumine. But that had been two days ago. _

_Two days ago... everything was fine, the team, his friends, the Nationals. Everything was possible back then. Now he went to his room and came down with everything was neatly packed and ready to go. He was ready to go. There wasn't much, really _to_ pack, since he wasn't taking any of his tennis equipment, anything that reminded him of Fudoumine or his failure. _

_No, no fairy tale ending, unless it was the kind where everyone got eaten at the end._

--

_High school came. Kamio hadn't forgotten about his missing friend – none of them had, even when they went to different schools. They still played tennis, maybe not on the same team but they still could meet at the street tennis courts, where everything was fine and they still were "Fudoumine". Whatever the uniforms they wore, they were always still Fudoumine. _

_Just that one member was missing, a member who never got replaced. No one had wanted to try continuing the last year in Junior High. A Fudoumine Tennis Club could barely exist with Tachibana no longer captaining but just dropping in as much as possible – but it couldn't exist without Ibu Shinj as well._

_They were scattered over various schools now, Ishida and Sakurai incorporated into Seigaku, taking over Doubles 2 in their second year when Ooishi's preparation for medical university meant the Golden Pair retired from active duty. Mori and Uchimura were at trade schools preparing to follow in their father's footsteps, still playing as much as possible of course. Kamio still wasn't quite sure how it had happened, except that Tachibana-san had _asked_ – but he had ended up in Hyoutei of all places, along with Tachibana and An. Atobe, the first freshman to make vice-captain, the first sophomore to ever make captain, had scouted Tachibana right after those deadly Nationals, and Kamio had never found out if arranging for Kamio's eventual scholarship (although Atobe had loftily denied rigging anything) had been part of Tachibana's stipulations to agree to enter the school. _

_Kamio could see it in Tachibana-san's eyes, too; he played for Hyoutei but he never really felt Hyoutei. They always felt Fudoumine, even spread across Tokyo like they were. It wasn't so much odd luck, perhaps, as the fact that Fudoumine needed its missing member. They were looking for him. It was obvious Shinji had moved outside of the city, most likely out of the entire Kanto region, but the hope remained. _

_The hope didn't dwindle, but life moved on and the last year of junior high and then the first year of high school buried some things and unearthed others. Kamio thought he might finally talk about some of the things, maybe with someone like Ootori, who was loyal and friendly and never talked about secrets because he had spent a lot of junior high having secrets of his own. Kamio's secrets weren't exactly secret to anyone, really, but by the summer of sophomore year, after another Nationals tournament (just barely beaten for the win by Rikkaidai) he was beginning to think that if he talked about them, maybe just once, then they might disappear a little._

_The very day he thought he would try, he saw someone he nearly couldn't recognize. _

_Scratch that. The day he decided to give up on the past, he saw someone he recognized instantly. _

_Painfully. _

_The school uniform the boy wore was western-style and dark grey. His hair was longer, tied back and slightly bleached. But it was him. Even through the sunglasses it was the eyes that told Kamio the truth. Instantly. Instantly. Instantly._

--

_It had taken him years to come back to Tokyo. Bandha High was a good place to lose yourself and he had done his best, but it was hard with a memory as good as his. Pictures and names and voices remained crystal clear; he could remember all of the details even when he never talked about them. His memory didn't let him forget that he had left his team for his own sake; he couldn't change that, maybe he still wouldn't if he could. But he missed them more and more each day and his memory was nothing like the gift his mother called it when he laid awake for nights because all he saw when he closed his eyes was Kamio. _

_He wanted to see everyone. He wanted to see Akira. _

_He had skipped any school trips to Tokyo up until now, but now it was different. After three years of swim club his hair was bleached from chlorine, longer; his skin had more tan, he was taller, not quite as delicate as he had been in junior high. With sunglasses, as long as he didn't speak, he didn't think anyone could tell he was who he used to be. _

_When the school bus stopped at the famous park across from Hyoutei, he didn't bother to file outside to look at the statues, just sat in the bus and scanned the crowds of exiting high school students through the window, finding Ootori Choutarou, even taller now but still with the same calm face and smile and Shishido Ryou right next to him, long hair once more grown out. He noted the way they moved together – ah, so they were officially a couple now. Then came Gakuto Mukahi, who didn't seem to have grown at all and was yelling into a cellphone – oh, that was right, Oshitari Yuushi had retired from tennis to concentrate on film studies, there had been an article in the Osaka papers, he had begun winning awards already or something . . . . _

_And then Tachibana-san walked out and all Shinji could do was stare. His hair was still blonde, longer, a little wilder although his smile as he spoke tempered the impression of power. His old captain – it hurt to see and yet he was glad to see – and An was there too, unbelievable pretty with her short cut hair and 'Lucky eight' punk necklace. _

_Would he have tried to do something? Say something? It was too late, the bus was full again and pulling away from the curb, and someone asked him a stupid question so he looked away from the window, missing the second Kamio exited the gate, missed the change in the boy's face when Akira's brain gave a clear Shinji-Alert. _

_He missed the second Kamio came out of his paralysed state and started to run across the street, in the middle of traffic, only to realize that the bus was gone and Shinji with it. And just as Kamio fully understood just what had happened, tears running down his face, he felt a hand on his shoulder and An was panting, waving one hand with ink scrawled across it._

_"I got the name of the school on the bus!"_

--

Two days later, in the middle of the day, Kamio showed up at Shinji's school.

Shinji was watching the sky out the window when his name was paged over the school intercom. He didn't mumble much thesedays, but classes were still easy and he didn't bother paying much attention to them, especially when he had other things to think about. He heard his name clearly enough, however, and after permission from the teacher made his way to the office and was told that someone was waiting for him at the gates and that it was urgent.

For a minute, when he saw Kamio, Shinji wondered if he was actually asleep, and had just dreamed about going to school that morning. It was almost summer vacation after all; maybe it _was_ vacation and he had been dreaming that it wasn't all day. Because this was _Akira_ standing there looking so very familiar with the same glowing hair and flustered eyes, looking at him with just the mix of shock and anger and blame that he had always imagined when he dreamed of the redhead.

They walked silently away from the gate to a quiet patch of grass, and looked at each other. Shinji thought about saying "You found me", but that seemed oddly dramatic.

"It's a school day," he said instead.

Shinji wondered if he looked as pale as he felt. But then with the tan from swim club, maybe Kamio wouldn't be able to tell if he was paler than normal. Kamio didn't look pale, he looked flushed, probably because he was angry – and he _was_ obviously angry whether or not he was real. Well, that was no surprise, he would be angry, too, if he were Kamio. Although if he were Kamio than he wouldn't have failed so badly and run away and hid like a coward and then there would _be _no reason for anyone to be angry . . . Shinji thought - and then caught himself because it had been a long time since he had started to mumble this badly.

Kamio punched him.

Maybe he was real after all, then.

"That's okay," Shinji nodded, picking himself up. "It's good for you to hit me. I should have let you before I left. It's not good for a person to have to wait so many years to express his frustration. I deserve more for breaking down so badly in the middle of the game, but –"

"You think I'm worried about the _game_?" It really was Kamio, Kamio's real voice, shouting and not just angry but _enraged._ "You think I was ever worried about that?! You think any of us were? Shinji!" Akira's voice cracked. "You were supposed to be fucking _smart_, you moron!"

"I let down the team," Shinji said, and his small voice seemed to infuriate Kamio even more.

The other boy lunged, wrapping a fist in the front of Shinji's uniform, pulling him up close, and three years hadn't changed the fact that Kamio showed his emotions as freely as ever on his face and in those pained, angry eyes.

"You let down the team_ when you left us alone_," he cried and Shinji flinched, because of all the ways he had felt guilty, he had never quite thought of it _that_ way. "Do you have any idea what we thought might have happened to you?" Kamio continued passionately, confusion and hurt and raw pain in his voice. "What I thought might have – we were so _worried_ Shinji-!"

"I'm sorry," he said.

He thought Kamio might hit him again, wouldn't have minded it because he had meant it when he said he owed him that much, but instead the other boy just slumped forward, head leaning against Shinji's shoulder, as if the tension that had been fueling him had suddenly evaporated.

Shinji was, he was oddly surprised to find, a little taller than Kamio now.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't want to be away from Akira and everyone. I was just so shamed. I didn't know how to stand it."

Kamio wasn't quite looking at him, but Shinji could tell his hair was still as red and deep as ever, his expression still that sharp and earnest. "There was nothing to be shamed about, Shinji," he said, and his voice was tired. "I'm sorry too. It was really my fault. I was upset about my performance too, you know. I thought we all just needed some time - but I shouldn't have left you alone like that."

"Akira played beautiful tennis that day," Shinji said sincerely. "I didn't – I didn't want to see you after you played such beautiful tennis and mine was so ugly. I'm sorry. I really am."

Kamio's voice was muffled against Shinji's shoulder. "It wasn't ugly, Shinji. Your tennis could never be ugly."

"Akira . . . ."

Kamio looked up at him, moving away from him, and Shinji had half lifted a hand to touch that red hair, confirm it was real, before he realized it. He carefully lowered the hand and shook his head. "I didn't want to stay away," he said again, hoping Kamio believed him. "I thought about everyone a lot. I wanted to know how everyone was doing."

"They're okay," Kamio sighed, running a hand through his hair as if unconsciously responding to Shinji's aborted urge. "We go to different schools but we still get together all the time to play. Tachibana-san is getting scouted all over the place," he added with a quick proud grin that made him seem more like the boy Shinji remembered so clearly. "He says he won't make up his mind until he finishes high school, but everyone knows how good he is."

Shinji found himself nodding automatically. "Of course they do. They would have to be pretty dim not to notice, even if Tachibana-san is in the same year as people like Hyoutei's Atobe or Rikkaidai's Sanada or Yukimura. Tachibana-san isn't flashy, but anyone can see how good he is. Although maybe now he _is_ flashy, because sometimes I see the tennis magazines and he looks flashier – but in a good way. That's okay. Someone like him can pull that off without seeming annoying. It just means it'll be even easier for people to realize his skill."

A little distantly, Shinji realized that he was talking again – something he had rarely done for the past several years. His silence was legendary around the school, born of first of not wanting to mumble and then having nothing much he _wanted_ to say. His parents had been worried about him, but he just hadn't felt like talking much. It had been a long time since he had had so many things he wanted to say; it was a little overwhelming, not to mention irritating, because Kamio would probably think he hadn't grown up at all in the past years, even though he had and actually it was Kamio's fault he was reverting like this. Not that he was going to complain, because he didn't want Akira to think he wasn't glad to see him, and then again Kamio wasn't really acting much different either, so maybe it was okay for Shinji to be acting the same, too, even though it was still annoying because Kamio -

Kamio was watching him with a slight smile on his face, and some of the tension in his frame had melted away.

"Shinji, you're mumbling."

Shinji flushed. "I don't do it very much anymore," he muttered.

Kamio's smile grew wider, and Shinji felt a little awe at the sight, like the last three years really had never happened and they were just the same as they always had been.

Maybe Kamio was feeling the same way, because he stretched out a hand and caught a piece of Shinji's hair, fingering it critically. "The color's different."

"Aa. I'm on the swim team and the chlorine isn't good for it. The season is over now, but when I'm swimming a lot, it gets really blue. That's the worst part about swim team."

Something almost like shock was passing over Kamio's face.

"But you still play tennis, right?" he demanded.

Shinji shook his head and Kamio's expression clouded instantly, growing angry again. "Dammit, Shinji, what a waste! You could've gone farther than any of us!"

He had forgotten how dizzying Akira could be, changing emotions so fast. None of the people he knew now were so mercurial, so full of life. He wanted to be able to say something to make Kamio feel better, but he had already apologized and while he would be willing to apologize again, he didn't think that would help anything.

Kamio fixed a searching gaze onto Shinji's face, dropping his hand from his hair. "Do you miss it?" he asked quietly.

The question, so simple, made Shinji freeze, almost shuddering as all of the memories came surging back over him. It might have been better if he could lie, but that still wasn't a skill he had learned, especially not with Akira.

All he could do was nod.

Instead of becoming angrier, however, inexplicably Kamio's expression cleared, then firmed. "Yoshi. Come on."

"Where?"

Kamio caught his arm and tugged. "To the tennis courts. Any tennis courts. It's time to wake you up."

Shinji opened his mouth to protest that he didn't belong to any tennis clubs, that he hadn't played in years . . . but somehow all he said was "We don't have rackets."

"We can rent them somewhere." Kamio made a face, still dragging Shinji relentlessly toward the school gates. "I would've brought some with me, but it was hard enough sneaking off without trying to bring tennis equipment."

Shinji stopped. "You sneaked off? You mean your parents don't know where you are? They'll be worried."

"Shinji, the irony of _you _saying that is killing me," Kamio sighed, shooting him a quick look from under his bangs. "But don't worry, I left them a message. They'll understand, so come on!"

"Oi, Ibu! Class ended and Abe-sensei said to tell you that the study set is due tomorrow and remember it's a half day since it's the last day before break. . . ."

Shinji blinked as two of his classmates approached. He had almost forgotten that other people existed.

Beside him, Kamio muttered "Ibu" under his breath. It was true that no one in this school called him by his first name like people had at Fudoumine. But really, even then that had only been the tennis club. Most people he wouldn't want calling him by his first name. Not that he didn't like the members of the swim team and his classmates here well enough, even if they weren't as interesting as Akira and the rest, but he just didn't want them to call him by his first name, since he wasn't all that close to them, either.

He'd been surprised when the tennis club started calling him by his first name, but he hadn't really minded, either. That was just the way they were. If someone here started calling him Shinji he probably wouldn't care, either, but no one had bothered to try and that was fine, too. It was just another example that things were different here – although he probably shouldn't tell Kamio that, or else the redhead might get conceited and think there was a special reason for letting him call him Shinji, which there wasn't, really, even though he wouldn't like it if Akira started calling him Ibu, which would be too strange after all these years, after all . . . .

Nakao and Yamane slowed and stopped as they reached Shinji, a bit off-put at the tableau of their normally subdued classmate standing with a vague expression and apparently muttering to himself, while some redhead was attached to his wrist and grinning.

"Hi!" said the redhead brightly. "I'm Shinji's friend Kamio from Tokyo. Do you know where we can find some tennis rackets and balls?"

They blinked successively at "Shinji" and then "Tokyo" and finally "tennis".

"Ibu, you have friends in Tokyo?" Yamane asked, surprised.

Kamio's eyes narrowed at the question. "_Yes_," he hissed.

Yamane held up his hands placatingly. "Hey, hey, no offense meant. I was just surprised because Ibu didn't mention it the other day when we went there on field trip."

Shinji scowled and looked down. It was true he had never really mentioned his Tokyo life to people here, but he didn't want Kamio to think he hadn't thought of them while he was in Tokyo.

"I asked if we were going to be near any areas I knew," he reminded them.

"Oh yeah," Yamane agreed vaguely. "Anyway, I know swim team is mostly over now, but we're going to get together after school and practice a bit anyhow."

"He can't come," said Kamio.

Shinji nodded. "Aa. I can't come. Please give coach my apologies."

The boys looked at the two again for a minute.

"Uh, okay," Nakao said finally, deciding that Ibu, although a nice enough guy, was always strange and wasn't worth working too hard to figure out, even if he did look somehow . . . different . . . right now. Maybe it was because, although he wasn't smiling – he never did after all – he sort of seemed to be. It was, Nakao decided privately, a nice look for him.

"Anyway," he said, "you can probably borrow some rackets from the tennis club, since they're finished for the season."

Shinji nodded. "Aa, thanks."

"Yeah," Kamio said with a grin, " 'preciate it. Over there? Okay, Shinji, let's go."

Kamio started walking and Shinji followed, leaving two very bemused boys behind.

--

Shinji stood on the street court and looked down at the racket in his hand with almost fear.

"Don't worry Shinji," Kamio prompted, "You probably deserve me grinding you into the dust, but this time I'll go easy on you. _Really _easy."

Shinji started to frown, eyes narrowing petulantly. "You don't have to sound so cocky, just because you're bound to be better than me. I haven't played in three years so of course I'll be pretty bad. But don't assume I won't still remember some things. Just because I haven't played doesn't mean I haven't been exercising, or thinking about tennis. I tried not to think about tennis, but that doesn't mean I never did, just like I tried not thinking about tennis club, because it hurt, but I kept thinking about it anyway . . . ."

Kamio laughed. "Shinji, were you serious when you said you've been quiet in high school?"

Shinji nodded. "I guess so. There wasn't much I wanted to say."

Kamio reached out to lightly touch his hair again. "Thanks for saving it up for me," he said, then blushed and turned away. "But I'm still going to run you into the ground."

They played in the street courts all afternoon, and Kamio was reasonably correct in his predictions. The first matches were all 6-0 and 40-Love, as Shinji tried to remember just how to return shots and control the ball. He should have been upset about being beaten so comprehensively, when the same thing had been what had driven him away from Tokyo in the first place, but this was Akira so instead he was just getting annoyed. Kamio had always been pretty well matched with him, but if he tried, he could always beat the redhead. Now he was growing more and more determined to at least win _some_ points.

Shinji glowered and focused harder, ignoring the way muscles used to swimming but not tennis were beginning to protest, and equally ignoring just how widely Kamio was grinning as he watched his friend become more and more focused, more and more like the person he remembered. More _real. _More _Shinji._

By the time the sun had set, Shinji had actually won one game, and Kamio had surprised him by jumping over the net with a whoop and grabbing him by the shoulders, beaming.

"I knew you'd remember fast," Kamio grinned, breathing heavily after half a day of tennis, but nowhere near as hard as Shinji. He let go of Shinji and flopped onto his back with a contented sigh. "Right, let's leave it at that until tomorrow, okay?"

Shinji frowned; although he could feel his arm shaking, he didn't want to stop. "I don't want to stop just because I had one okay game," he said, frowning. "You're going really easy on me and still beating me all the time, so it's not fair to stop at the only moment you're not."

"Yeah yeah," Kamio agreed good-naturedly, "but we've been playing all day and I'm starving. I didn't have any lunch and – what time is it now?"

Shinji consulted his watch. "Almost 8."

Kamio groaned. "_Please_ tell me there's somewhere cheap to get food around here!" He paused, twisting to regard Shinji, who had settled onto the ground next to him, and watched him surveying his borrowed racket with a frown.

"How's your arm?"

Shinji reflectively flexed it. "Not bad," he decided. "It'll be sore tomorrow, but not so bad that I can't use it or anything. Swimming uses a lot of different muscles, so I'm really out of shape for this."

Akira gave him a friendly smirk. "Yeah, I noticed. Don't worry, we'll get you back in shape in no time," he promised, flopping back down on his back to rest.

"Aa," Shinji agreed.

"You _are_ going back to Tokyo with me, you know."

"Aa."

"Like, tomorrow."

"Aa."

"I brought transfer papers with me. That's why it took me the extra day to come. The others don't know yet or else they all would have come, but I asked Atobe-san and he says if you do well enough on the test you'll definitely get in, so that's no problem. They have dorm rooms, too, that's where I stay, or there are some cheap apartments around. You can stay with me as long as you need to, too."

"Aa."

"And don't leave again," Kamio continued, picking at his racket. "I mean, if you really hate tennis now you can join the swim club again. But don't go away." He looked sharply at Shinji. "Because if you do it again I'll really never forgive you."

"I won't go away," said Shinji softly.

"Okay, then," said Kamio.

And for the moment, everything was.

* * *

tbc! Reviews obviously appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: Fuji is not really showing up in this story, but he still wants to remind everyone that neither the Prince of Tennis nor the premise of this story belong to keyascribe . . .**

**WARNING: M for a couple of swearwords and some vague thoughtd about swimwear, I guess . . .**

**PAIRINGS: Kamio/Shinji, Tachibana/Atobe, An/Kirihara, seriously every doubles pair, ever.**

**A/N: I wish Shinji's sisters had names . . . .**

* * *

Finding Shinji

* * *

Part Two

Swimwear, hair, a goodnight's sleep

* * *

As ravenous as Kamio felt after a day of tension, travel, emotion and tennis, he was having a hard time concentrating on the food in front of him. All he wanted to do was stare at Shinji. Shinji, who was real and alive and _there,_ sitting across from him, long, artistic fingers picking up his burger or drink, those familiar bland dark eyes giving languid blinks, that familiar slight frown as his face tilted slightly to let newly bleached hair fall against his cheekbones.

The hair and the tan were the big differences, of course. Shinji was taller now, and a little less willowy, but so was Kamio, so that didn't really count. It was actually good there _were_ a few differences, because it helped convince Kamio that Shinji was real – and even more importantly, perhaps, it helped separate him just a little from the boy who had been making appearances in Kamio's dreams for more years than he cared to count. Because seeing Shinji - Shinji's eyes, Shinji's face, Shinji's mouth - in front of him after so long was making it harder than Kamio had ever expected not to do something stupid.

And Kamio had just got Shinji back. He didn't want to lose him immediately by doing a stupid thing. Not now. So he tried very hard to stare at his food instead of Shinji, and wondered if Shinji was noticing that it wasn't working at all.

There was a slight bruise at the corner of his mouth where Kamio had hit him. Kamio felt guilty about that, in one way, although not in another because Shinji was right, he _had_ totally deserved it.

"So," he said finally, picking at his food, "I guess I should have asked earlier, but is it okay for me to stay at your house tonight? I pretty much used up all my money getting here and, uh, didn't really plan much past finding you. Actually I didn't really plan much past hitting you, but . . . ."

"I'm surprised you only hit me one time," Shinji admitted, still apparently having no trouble eating, which Kamio thought was a little unfair. "If the situation were reversed, I probably would have hit you more. Or else I would have – "

"Have what?"

Shinji looked quickly away. "Nothing."

Ha! Kamio smirked in sudden triumph. "Shinji?"

"Aa?"

"You just put your fingers in the ketchup."

_--_

Kamio had always been grateful that Shinji's family liked him. Now they practically smothered him in their enthusiastic welcome. He had to go through scrutiny from Shinji's mother, who apparently approved of whatever the last three years had done, and was shocked at the difference those same three years had made in Shinji's youngest sister, the one _not_ now already so astonishingly grown up that she was going to a private junior high boarding school in Kyoto this year.

"Aren't I pretty now?" she asked archly, twirling coyly for him.

"Weren't you always?" he grinned, playing along.

"But aren't I prett_ier_?" she insisted primly.

"If I say yes, I might get in trouble with your mom for flirting."

She accepted the compliment gracefully and Kamio wondered again if all girls really _were _as adult and self-possessed as An-chan.

"But Shinji-nii's still prettier," she sighed pragmatically, and Kamio prudently turned a laugh into a cough – or maybe it was a cough into a laugh. "You should see all the girls who come to watch him at swim practice," she continued, eyeing him with an inscrutable expression. "He's really popular. Want to see a picture?"

Kamio suddenly found himself nervous at the expression in her formerly sweet eyes. "A picture of what?"

"Shinji-nii in his swim team uniform."

This time it was definitely a cough, if not a splutter. He had repeatedly promised himself to put off any and all personal revelations until later, when Shinji was safe and sound and secure in Tokyo, and while Kamio was reasonably sure of his willpower, he didn't need to be pushing the limit with pictures of swimwear. He was thus absurdly grateful to be saved by the very subject of their conversation, who entered the room with a plate of cookies from the kitchen and an askance look at his sister.

"Are you bothering Kamio already?" he asked suspiciously, eyeing her.

She shook her head blandly. Really, girls were fearsome creatures. "We were just talking about the girls at swim team," she said sweetly.

Shinji frowned. "They're really annoying. I don't know why so many of them want to waste all their time hanging out there every day. It's much worse than it was for tennis club, although that may be because Bandha High is so much bigger than Fudoumine. Anyway, let's eat these in my room. It's getting late and you didn't get much sleep last night, right?"

"Yeah, not really," Kamio admitted, waving goodnight to Shinji's disturbing little sister and following the other boy up the stairs. What with anticipation of the next day and having to get up early to make the dawn bus, which was the only one that would get him to Osaka in time for school to still be in session, he hadn't slept much at all. Actually, he hadn't really slept since he had first seen Shinji again, a fact which wasn't helping to make any of this less dreamlike.

"You can take a bath and I've got clothes you can borrow," Shinji continued as they went down the hallway, and it was so bizarrely like any other time one of them had randomly decidedly to stay at the other's house that for a minute Kamio's head spun. "It's a good thing we're still mostly the same size, so you can use my clothes, even if I'm taller now."

That last comment was said with a definite smirk present in the boy's voice and Kamio found himself both rolling his eyes and somehow oddly pleased that Shinji had noticed.

"Yeah what, like 2 cm?" he scoffed. "That's hardly a difference. Wait til you see how tall Ishida's gotten! Your hair has really gotten long, though," he added inconsequentially, watching the thick tail swing against Shinji's back in front of him.

The ponytail bounced a little as Shinji nodded. "At first I kept forgetting to cut it, and then my sisters begged me to keep it long. It makes it difficult to control when I'm swimming, but I let it loose when I'm not in the water and the girls aren't quite as loud that way."

Why did the conversation keep coming back to images of Shinji in his bathing suit? Kamio wondered in pained silence. Although privately he wasn't that sure that Shinji with loose hair, even if it did cover him up a bit, would be any less attractive than with it pulled back.

"This is my room," Shinji said, thankfully breaking Kamio away from his dangerous train of thought. "Anyway," he continued as they entered. "Hyoutei must be pretty bad, too, about that sort of thing. Fangirls, I mean."

Kamio sat down on the Shinji's bed, more out of habit than because he had looked around and noticed there weren't any other available seats, and fidgeted a little under the sidewise look Shinji had sent him. In fact, Kamio had dated off and on his first year at Hyoutei, which had calmed down most of the attention from girls for his part, but he didn't really want to get into the particular subject just yet.

"Ah, well, it can get pretty crazy," he admitted. "But Atobe-san always keeps things in hand. Loud, but in hand. They went after Tachibana-san for a while" – and Kamio, but he wasn't about to mention that – "but Atobe-san had a talk with them and made them stop. He's actually a pretty good guy about stuff like that. Tachibana-san – he's been fukubuchou the last two years - says he's been happy to have worked with him."

In fact, "buchou" wasn't all Atobe was to Tachibana, but Kamio figured he could wait before filling Shinji in on _all_ the developments of the past years. Atobe had searched out Tachibana, that much was certain, and made sure to draw him into Hyoutei before the other schools could start headhunting, and Kamio was sincerely glad that things had worked out as they had.

Shinji nodded. "I saw Tachibana-san and An-chan for a moment when we were in Tokyo. I didn't know they were going to Hyoutei. I didn't know you were either."

"If you had known, would you have looked for me?" Kamio caught himself asking, then quickly shook his head. "Never mind, you don't have to answer. But yeah, I was the last person to think anyone of us – especially me! – would end up there. They're sort of a bizarre sometimes, especially about money stuff, but it's not as bad as I would have thought."

"It surprised me to see Tachibana-san and An-chan there," Shinji said quietly, "but I'm glad because it's a good school. It must be good for you, too, because you look good."

Kamio couldn't help the slight blush, which increased at Shinji's next comment. "Tachibana-san looked really happy, too. And An-chan looked really pretty."

"Yeah . . . ." Kamio decided to be clear from the start. If this was about second chances, then he wasn't going to mess things up. "You wouldn't believe it, but she's been dating that Kirihara from Rikkaidai for the past couple years."

Shinji looked at him in surprise. "You mean the one who hurt Tachibana-san's knee, and then everyone thought An-chan had pushed him down the stairs in revenge?"

"Crazy, isn't it?" Kamio grinned at the evident surprise Shinji's voice. It hadn't been often that he could catch the other boy so completely unaware. "But after he went through his big change of heart and become, uh, less evil, they bumped into each other, and I guess he apologized and things kind of went from there. Apparently when they decided to start going steady, he came up to Tachibana-san and asked him to hit him to make up for what he had done in the past or something."

"Tachibana-san wouldn't do something like that," Shinji objected, frowning.

"Of course not! So instead they played tennis and Tachibana-san left Akaya in the dust. Sort of how I did you today, but more exciting." Kamio paused to grin at Shinji's sour expression and continued. "So after that, all was forgiven and forgotten. Akaya's actually a pretty okay guy, usually, and when he's not An-chan can shut him up fast with just a look."

"Girls are scary that way," Shinji agreed with a slow nod. "But I thought you--?"

Kamio waved the question away with a mostly successful chuckle. "Ah, that, well, we tried dating a bit but it just – never took off. We're still really good friends, though. She's busy with the Hyoutei girl's tennis club. She was Singles 3 last year and they did really well!"

Shinji had tensed as Kamio talked; now he relaxed again and gave a slow happy smile. "Aa, that's good to hear."

"Speaking of An-chan-" Kamio was in far too much danger of just staring forever at that rare smile, or even worse reaching out and touching it, running a finger along those soft lips – "she saw you, too. In fact, she's the one who got the name of your school from the bus, so she knows I came to see you. I'd better call her before she goes crazy wondering what happened. Better call my parents, too. When they see you they'll probably forgive everything, but I might as well do a little damage control first."

"Tell An-chan and your parents that I–" Shinji hesitated, looking for the right words.

"Yeah, don't worry, I will," Kamio agreed, smiling. "Go take a bath first and I'll make arrangements for Tokyo. Can you really go tomorrow? I know I said that, but I guess it's sort of ridiculous now that I think about it. I mean, you have to pack and stuff, right?"

Shinji sent a quick look around the room. "All I really need is some clothes and things. My parents can send anything else. I can mail the swim team and some other people, but nobody will much care."

"Shinji—" Kamio's voice was warning. "Don't leave anyone in the lurch like you did us."

Shinji quickly shook his head, not meeting Kamio's eyes. "I won't. There's really not anyone who will really care, but I'll tell everyone who would want to know."

"Sounds like they'll have to make an announcement to your legions of fans, too," Kamio added, smirking, just to see Shinji scowl.

"My little sister talks too much," he muttered. "I know the swimswuits are revealing, but that's not my fault. It's the way the sport works. People shouldn't make such a big deal out of it."

"Is it really that bad?" Kamio wondered, suddenly more curious than embarrassed to see the uniforms. "I mean, it's just swimsuits, isn't it?"

Shinji frowned and waved a hand toward a few loose photos on a corner of a shelf. "I don't really have many pictures around, but there are some group ones over there, I guess. You can look at those if you want."

An and parents momentarily forgotten, Kamio crossed over to the pictures as Shinji left the room, and picked up the thin stack of commemorative team photos. It looked like the team had been pretty successful, and although there were no medals displayed on Shinji's shelves, judging from a few of the photos it looked like Shinji had unsurprisingly excelled in this sport, too.

What caught Kamio's attention most, however, was that Shinji wasn't really smiling in any of the shots. He looked satisfied or determined in a few, but it was a far cry from that subtle enjoyment he had shown in Fudoumine's team photos (taken by An-chan, since there was no way they could afford an official photographer, and no real need anyhow since the whole group was only 7 people).

Kamio had gotten through nearly all of the photos without trouble, when he reached the final shot of Shinji, having probably just finished a race, with flushed cheeks and water dripping off him and oh yes, he could certainly understand why swim team was so popular with the fangirls, because he already knew Shinji was all lanky muscle and sleek lines, and could guess at how three years had tightened and toned those lines, but dammit, dressed like that there was no way to avoid it. As it was, he could only be supremely happy that Shinji himself wasn't in the room watching him blush at just how sensual the other boy looked. But still, in the picture Shinji wasn't smiling, and Kamio would rather have him in loose sweats but looking happy any day.

Which reminded him of An, and feeling renewed guilt over neglecting her when she must be worrying frantically, he hastily replaced the photos and dug out his cell to call her.

"Kamio-kun?" She answered on the first ring, and he cringed again at this evidence of her anticipation.

"An-chan!" And then the words burst forth. "It's okay! He's okay! It's all okay! It really is!" Kamio babbled, knowing he sounded like an idiot, but not being able to help himself.

On the other side of the line, An gave a strangled squeal of glee. "Really? Really really? How does he look? I mean really? Has he been eating properly? Is he coming back?"

Kamio was grinning so widely it hurt his face and he knew An could sense it. "Yeah, no, he looks good, really good. Ha, it's crazy how long his hair is but it's definitely Shinji, you know? He even mumbled a few times although he says he only did that cause of me so it was my fault and he doesn't usually, but it's – it's – _him_, An-chan! You can tell everyone, we're coming back on the bus tomorrow. He's transferring to Hyoutei and it's all going to work! It's really going to work!"

An made a choked noise on the other end of the phone and Kamio realized she was crying. Hell, he was halfway there himself. "Thank goodness," she whispered. "Finally. Oniichan, everyone, they'll be so happy."

Kamio had to fight from bouncing on the bed, pacing – racing – around, just doing something to demonstrate how he was feeling. Instead, he couldn't help laughing and An laughed with him.

He had just finished a second, much less celebratory and more groveling phone call to his parents, when Shinji walked in, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

And oh yes, Shinji in sweats was _just_ fine . . . .

"Shinji! It's all settled, everyone will meet us at the bus station tomorro—" Kamio trailed off as he stared wide-eyed at his friend.

Shinji met his shocked gaze, then flicked away, embarrassed. "Ah, this . . . ." he muttered, lowering the towel. Touseled strands clung to his cheeks, fell wetly against his neck . . . and stopped at that achingly familiar length just above his shoulders.

Kamio stared. "Shinji! Hair – your hair – you -!"

Shinji shrugged, still looking a little diffident. "If I'm going to be playing tennis then long hair is too heavy. I know there are some players who still play with really long hair, but I don't want that kind of handicap. I wouldn't want short hair either, but this length works well. It might not look as good as the long hair, but aside from my sisters I don't think anyone really cares about that. Akira, you look a little strange. Are you okay? Was the long hair really better?"

Kamio bit his lip. For the first time since he had seen Shinji again, he felt absurdly close to crying. "No," he managed, voice a little shaky, "this is good. It's really good."

_--_

If he had been asked, Kamio would have laid bets that he would never be able to sleep that night, not with the rush of success still thrumming through his veins, and Shinji _right there._ But it had been two days of no sleep, and anticipation and panic and exultation and tennis, and he was half-gone the moment Shinji pulled the covers over them.

They were sleeping in the same bed because the room wasn't large enough for an extra futon, and they were sleeping in the same bed because that's what they had always done. And mostly, they were sleeping in the same bed because neither of them wanted to be far enough away from the other that this might all turn out to have been just a dream.

Kamio felt a little weak, but he shifted so his forehead was just barely touching Shinji's back, his hand just fingering a piece of Shinji's shirt. He wanted proof; no matter how tired he was, there was no way he could fall asleep without absolute proof that Shinji was still next to him.

Soft hair tickled his nose and Kamio flicked it sleepily away.

"You really do worry about my hair, don't you?" Shinji's sleepy voice floated across the darkness. "I never noticed it before, because your hair is so much prettier than mine, but I guess if you thought about your own hair that would make you narcissistic like Hyoutei's Atobe – although if I'm going to be going to Hyoutei I have to be more respectful of my senpai so I shouldn't say he's narcissistic. Even if I do say that, it doesn't mean he's not a good person or a good tennis player or anything, just that he thinks a lot about himself. That's natural enough."

Kamio leaned into Shinji's back, just enjoying the sound of Shinji's voice. He hadn't usually slept this way, so dangerously close (it might not even have been dangerous before, although now it certainly was), but Shinji didn't seem to mind. Maybe the other boy, too, was feeling the need to make sure all this was real. The heat from Shinji was soothing, something real and permanent; he tightened his hold on Shinji's shirt, and was more content than anything else when Shinji's hand crept back to fasten onto the hem of Kamio's own shirt as well.

"Shinji?" Kamio whispered. "It might be a little early to say, but: Okaeri."

"Tadaima."

* * *

And next part, they actually get to Tokyo.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: Mori, Uchimura, Ishida & Sakurai are excited that, despite the fact neither the Prince of Tennis nor the premise of this story are owned by keyascribe, Fudoumine finally gets at least a ****little**** bit of screen time in this part.**

**WARNING: M, for Kirihara's dirty sense of humor.**

**PAIRINGS: Kamio/Shinji, Tachibana/Atobe, An/Kirihara, every doubles pair, ever.**

**A/N: Tachibana is supposed to be good at cooking Japanese cuisine, so . . . . .**

* * *

Finding Shinji

* * *

Part Three

Fudoumine rejoices, Kirihara snarks; tennis

* * *

It was almost bizarre how easily Shinji returned to Tokyo. Well, it had only taken two days for him to move away after all, but that had been _with_ his family, not because some random ex-teammate had swooped down out of nowhere and demanded it.

Kamio honestly hadn't known what to expect from Shinji's parents at the announcement – made by Shinji since Kamio would never have been able to get through such an audacious proclamation without stuttering and blushing like crazy – that their only son was dropping out of school and moving across country that very afternoon. During the subsequent family huddle in the other room, Kamio paced, feeling guilty because he _did_like Shinji's family, and determined because Shinji _was_ coming back with him, and in general the wait was worse than any pre-game tension he had ever felt.

They had come back, however, and mildly given their assent as long as Shinji enrolled immediately in school as soon as vacation was over; and just like that, Shinji had gone back to his room to pack before Kamio had really even comprehended that it was going to be okay.

It was as if Shinji's family had just been waiting until someone came for him – it was just that easy.

And when, with justifiable pride, Shinji's sister revealed the supposedly long lost racket and Fudoumine uniform that she had been patiently keeping under her bed for the past three years, Kamio instantly forgave her any teasing and whooping swung her around the living room until Shinji came down to see what the noise was.

And so here was Kamio and here was Shinji (duffle bag full of some clothes and the racket, because he would have to buy new books for school anyway and Kamio could provide all the other basics) on the bus about to enter Tokyo.

Kamio wasn't surprised to see that Shinji was definitely looking uneasy.

"Hey, relax," he counseled his friend. "They'll forgive you. I did, didn't I?"

"But you're –" Shinji stopped whatever he was going to say and instead just nodded silently.

"We all missed you, Shinji. So they'll be angry, too, just like I was, but mostly they'll just be really happy."

Shinji gave another serious nod. "I'll be happy too. But are they all going to hit me like you did? They can if they want, but if I get hit that many times in a row I might pass out and then I won't be able to properly apologize to them. So if that happens, you have to get them to wait until I wake up, because I don't want them to think I'm not taking this seriously and – Kamio, are you laughing at me?"

"No, no," Kamio assured him, manfully trying to smother his chuckles. Only Shinji would come up with a contingency plan in case his loving long-lost teammates knocked him unconscious. "Seriously, I'm sure – well, I'm pretty sure they won't. Probably."

"I don't think you should be enjoying this so much," Shinji complained, eyeing him.

"No," Kamio said sincerely, "I really should. Now get off the bus and say hello."

More nervous than Kamio had ever seen him, apparently too worried to even mumble, Shinji numbly obeyed instructions and got off the bus to say hello.

And there they were – everyone taller, Ishida even more muscular, the towel finally abandoned for a jaunty Rasta hat; Uchimura still the shortest by far with his cap pulled low over his eyes; Mori trying out a side buzz cut that wasn't really working, bouncing on his feet; Sakurai still refusing to give up on his pompadour, tilting his head back to say something snarky to the others. An in front, pretty and confident, and in a glow of yellow hair and commanding presence, Tachibana waiting for his last two players.

Shinji stood, frozen. Kamio gave him a gentle push forward. And then, seeing as he had only moved two feet, another one.

Blinking a little under the combined stares of his old teammates, Shinji hesitated, then bowed low to them across the parking lot for a long silent moment.

When he finally released the bow, An stepped forward.

"Ibu Shinji, " she announced severely, "we drew straws for this and I won, so for the entire team, let me just say this – " and her slap was hard enough to whip Shinji's face around – "_don't you ever do that again!_"

" . . . Aa," Shinji agreed meekly and rubbed his red cheek.

An nodded sharply. "Just as long as we're straight on that." Then abruptly her expression dissolved into tears and she flung herself at Shinji.

"Shinjiiiiiiii," she sobbed, and as if that was the prearranged sign, the rest of the team surged forward and engulfed their missing member.

And then it was a flurry of Okaeri's and hugs, and laughs.

And Shinji was back.

--

"—And then Masaya said, "Well at least our buchou can cook better than yours!" Ishida stabbed the air with a fork to simulate Sakurai's mode of challenge.

"So we had to call up Tachibana-san and beg him to make nikujaga for all of Rikkaidai to uphold the pride of Fudoumine," Uchimura explained, chuckling under his hat, while Sakurai sniggered unrepentantly and Tachibana simply looked pained.

"Even Sanada-san ate two helpings," An said proudly. "Of _the enemy's food!_"

"Tachibana-san even made ohagi, too," Mori added brightly, this time causing Tachibana to actually wince at the memory, "and that Bunta kid who loves sweets stalked him for like weeks, begging for more."

"I promised to make him some for his birthday. . . ." Tachibana murmured stoically, causing a fresh wave of snickers to wash around the table.

It was almost twenty-four hours since Shinji had returned and everything was going great.

Except.

Shinji was shaking. Even Kamio might not have noticed it except that he was sitting next to Shinji, and was still hyper-aware of everything about the boy. Shinji still had that tiny smile of interest playing on his face, was still lapping up every story, every movement of his team with wide eyes and eager, almost reverent, attention, but sometime in the last half hour he had started to shake as well, as if it was all too much input, overloading his system . . . .

Kamio leaned over to snag a French fry from Uchimura's plate and under the table let his other hand brush over Shinji's trembling one. Settling back in his chair, he let his hand stay against Shinji's, felt the other boy relax minutely. It had to be stressful, of course, trying to take in this much all at once. Hell, even Kamio was feeling a little overwhelmed and he had seen these friends almost every day for the past three years!

They had started for dinner the day before, then somehow ended up camping out at Mori's house all night, talking idly, taking turns drifting off and then popping awake again with another good story. Sometime around dawn, using the always effective group puppy dog eyes attack, they had convinced Tachibana (who certainly was the best cook by far) to make breakfast; and having unearthed Mori's pile of photo albums, they had spent the rest of the morning giving Shinji a pictorial crash course of the last few years.

Now, because still nobody wanted to leave, they had moved on to a late lunch and it was all going amazingly, except that Shinji was trembling.

Tachibana noticed as well, because he was still their captain after all.

"Well, perhaps we should call it a day for now," he said, straightening in his seat. "Shinji and Kamio have had a busy couple of days, after all. Shinji might like some time to get settled in before we catch him up on every thing that's happened in the last three years."

Sakurai made a quiet coughing noise that sounded like "Atobe", but Tachibana just smiled innocently and let An throw a piece of bread at the trouble-maker.

They filed out of the restaurant into the late afternoon and lingered, just being around Shinji, all of them unconsciously, instinctively, reaching out as they talked to brush his arm, rest a hand on his shoulder, reaffirm that he was there. And Shinji, who had never liked being touched, seemed as grateful about the contact as anyone else.

"Come on," Kamio tugged at his arm finally, "let's let you dump your stuff at my place and get settled in a bit. I promised my parents I'd bring you by this week for dinner, but we can wait on that for a day or two . . . ."

"Remember, you're coming to the street courts tomorrow!" An called after them, waving enthusiastically.

"Try and keep us away!" Kamio yelled back, as Shinji waved a little in agreement.

He had already explained – with much muted mirth on Kamio's part – just how bad he had become at tennis, and the immediate consensus being to take advantage of the summer vacation to remedy that shocking fact, the team had already worked out an intense practice regime which had some to do with quickly getting Shinji back to a tennisfied state and an equal amount with just keeping him in sight as much as possible.

Everyone on the team had also volunteered their house as temporary quarters for Shinji, but Kamio had politely and firmly and with barely any baring of possessive teeth, insisted that it made the most sense for Shinji to be staying in the dorms. Thus thwarted, they had settled for each promising to bring something to help him settle in, from Mori donating a toaster (not that he had ever seemed upset that just _Kamio_ was toasterless) to Sakurai triumphantly remembering the pair of trainers that he had borrowed from Shinji and never returned due to Shinji _vanishing off the face of the earth_, to Ishida promising to get Seigaku's Kaidou, now working part-time in the local tennis shop, to restring Shinji's racket, and Uchimura offering to raid his family's store for extra dishware. Tachibana volunteered to pass along all of his Hyoutei textbooks from the year before, and An was already making plans to get Kirihara involved in Shinji's tennis rehabilitation.

In short, although they might remember from time to time, everyone had completely forgotten to be mad at Shinji and were working together with the unspoken agreement that they wanted him here, and well and firmly entrenched as soon as possible. And if tennis was going to do that the fastest, then all the better.

The bus ride over to Hyoutei was filled with phone calls from teammates who had forgotten to say something or remind Shinji of something, and finally Kamio grabbed his phone back and announced to Ishida that he was officially turning off his cell for the rest of the evening and that yes, Shinji would be at the street courts the next morning, and yes, his racket was in decent enough condition that it would last the day, and yes, he would remember to feed Shinji a healthy breakfast and – with a gritted determination _no_t to understand the innuendo in Ishida's overly sugary tone – yes, they _would_ get a good night's rest, goddammit.

Shinji was definitely looking a little shell-shocked by the time Kamio had stuffed the phone viciously back into his bag, swearing to himself to get less perverted (or at least less observant) friends asap. He was _not_ going to try to jump Shinji the moment they were alone together. Yes, things had changed, as least as far as Kamio was concerned, in the time since Shinji had left, but he couldn't just dump his emotions on the other boy the first moment there was an opportunity. That wouldn't be fair to either of them, not when Shinji was already on overload and Kamio wasn't much better. Kamio was the one who had dragged Shinji back to Tokyo, after all, so he owed it to Shinji to be calm and responsible and make sure there were no more mistakes from here on out.

With that in mind, humming a little under his breath to distract himself from the way Shinji had half-fallen asleep in the seat next to him, head sliding sideways so he was just barely leaning against Kamio, Akira looked out the bus window at the streets flashing back and planned for the future.

--

Although it wasn't yet evening, the dorm grounds were completely empty. It was vacation, after all, which usually meant (as far as Hyoutei students were concerned) trips out of hot and muggy Tokyo and to summer houses in cooler trendy resort towns in Japan or abroad. Sometimes it got a little lonely, being the only person left in the stately dormitory building, but usually Kamio was simply grateful for the peace and quiet.

"The dorms are pretty nice, and there're shops close enough for midnight snack runs and stuff," he explained as he and Shinji made their way from the nearest bus stop – not very near, since Hyoutei students rarely needed something as pedestrian as public transport.

"Not that _you'll _need to stay up studying all night," Kamio added with a wry grin for Shinji's well known ability to perfectly remember pretty much everything without difficulty, "but they require all sorts of whacked subjects here that normal school don't even have, like medieval latin and stuff. I used to get all sorts of weird looks trying to study on the commute before I moved out of my parents' house."

The lack of good public transportation connections was the main reason Kamio had finally given in to the need to move from his house to the more expensive school dorms, since the two subways and a bus commute had proven exhausting as soon as the early morning tennis practices had started. Of course Atobe being Atobe, the Hyoutei captain would have had no qualms at all in sending a private car every morning to pick up not only Tachibana and An but Kamio as well, and had suggested the idea on more than one occasion. Tachibana, however, had firmly but pleasantly nixed the suggestion for his part and Kamio had fervently agreed. He liked his freedom – as well as his dignity – too much to be carted around at another's whim. And while it wasn't exactly that Kamio didn't trust Atobe, who was a good captain and someone whom Tachibana trusted, but he did seem to get a suspicious enjoyment out of flustering Kamio with eye-popping demonstrations of wealth.

A case in point was Kamio coming back to his dorm room one day to find half a wall had been removed and a picture window with alcove installed because "a Hyoutei Tennis Regular shouldn't have such a dreary living abode". He had sputtered for almost a week at the ridiculousness of it, before breaking down and thanking Atobe gratefully. Which caused Atobe to look so honestly (if subtly) pleased – Hyoutei really didn't do gratitude after all - that Kamio had begun to understand why Tachibana would voluntarily spend time with him. Kind of.

"Well, here it is," Kamio announced, unlocking the door and leading Shinji in. "We're the only ones on this floor right now, so it's pretty peaceful."

Shinji carefully set down his duffle and surveyed the room.

"It's nice," he said, sounding pleased. "It seems like you."

"There's some drinks in the fridge – I think – and the bedroom's through there-" Kamio waved a hand toward in the correct direction. "Stick whatever you want in the closet, there's lots of room there. Hyoutei gets seriously intense about having enough closet space. And the bathroom's over there, so if you want a bath or shower or anything – uh, let's see, I've got towels around here somewhere – "

He paused as his phone (set on vibrate so he could ignore any and all further calls from his teammates) started to buzz. A quick glance at the ID and he grinned.

"Heh, mail from Momoshiro. An must have already told Fuji about you." Kamio pushed back one of the sliding doors to the all-purpose living room closet, pulling out towels (a matching set, the result of one of Atobe's "I'm buchou so I rule every aspect of my players' lives" hissy fits upon learning that Kamio's bathware was frayed and monochromatically uncoordinated) and anything else Shinji might need.

"Would you believe it?" he continued over his shoulder, unearthing an extra pillow and case as well. "They hang out a lot now, and go shopping and stuff – Sakurai calls it plotting time. Tezuka's still in Germany, training, so Fuji has a lot of time on his hands. He's been interning with that Shiba-san from Monthly Tennis magazine and she says he's got a real talent for photographing sports – although I dunno, half the time it seems like she just enjoys hitting on him. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he and An are the ones that got Tachibana-san and Atobe together – whoops, but that's a story for another time so pretend you didn't hear that, okay?"

"Sakurai and Mori already told me most of it," Shinji admitted. "They got pretty hyper around 3am last night."

Kamio rolled his eyes. "They're _always_ pretty hyper. And don't start smirking at me saying that. Compared to them I'm totally calm." He snickered at Shinji's disbelieving look. "Okay, calm_er_, at least. Here, I'll put everything on the bed for now and you can sort through it later."

Shinji tilted his head, making a pondering noise as Kamio trotted into the bedroom, then returned with empty arms. "A totally calm Akira would be pretty strange, I think. You're not as annoying as most people when you're energetic, so maybe I shouldn't say hyper, just excitable, although it seemed hyper when Seigaku's Momoshiro or An-chan was around—"

"Nah, I'm responsible now, see?." Kamio grinned and waved a hand. "My towels match and everything. You'll see. I don't lose my temper nearly as often as I used to."

"You still hit me," Shinji pointed out. "But I already said I didn't mind, so I shouldn't mention it again. Anyway, I didn't mean I thought it was bad that you were so excitable except that sometimes you got pretty loud and I worried about my hearing, especially when that Momoshiro was around. What did his message say?"

Kamio checked the screen again, drumming fingers absently against his leg. "Ah . . . he says welcome back and challenges us to doubles, whenever you're ready. Heh, and he's still pissed cause I beat him in the semi-finals this year. You should have seen it, I was so on the rhythm – Shinji?"

"Aa, that's right," Shinji said softly to himself. "Everyone knows I ran away. I hadn't thought of that. I was worried about Fudoumine, but I didn't think of everyone else . . . . "

Kamio's grin slipped a little. "Hey hey, it's old history," he said quickly. "Don't worry about it. Who cares what they think? I mean, it's not as if they think anything bad anyway. Wait and see, Momo's still a pain, but it's not like he cares about the past or anything. He's gotten stupid strong with that dunk smash of his, but once you're sharp enough you can probably seal it and then I'll take care of the rest."

Shinji was still frowning, but now it was more thoughtful, less upset. "I'm not that good yet," he said slowly, obviously working through calculations in his head. "I won't be for a while. I need to work really hard to get back to where I was, so I won't be a disgrace to Tachibana-san and all of you."

"Hey – no more talking about disgrace," Kamio ordered sharply. "You just got back, of course you need some time. But there's lots of that, right? Time, I mean."

Shinji nodded. "I'll get better," he said confidently, a hint of his customary assurance creeping back into his expression. "If I play Mori and Uchimura in the mornings and Ishida and Sakurai in the afternoons like we planned, I'll get good enough to play you or Tachibana-san pretty soon. Even if I had been playing for all these years, I don't think I'd ever be able to beat Tachibana-san – but I owe you for last time."

Kamio chuckled. "It's not like I haven't gotten better since three years ago, either."

"Aa, everyone thinks you're really good, I can tell. Everyone was talking about it at lunch today, and last night, too." Shinji yawned, missing Kamio's blush. "But I'll still get better and beat you," he added. "You'll see."

"Yeah, guess I might."

"Akira?" Shinji looked odd at the strangely wistful tone.

Kamio shook his head. "Ah, nothing," he said quickly. "Just . . . take your time, okay? You don't have to worry about playing me immediately or anything. I mean, there's no need to rush things. I'll be here whenever, so you don't have to hurry."

Shinji looked at him for a minute. "Okay," he said, and moved to put his bag in the bedroom.

--

Shinji felt naturally self-conscious wearing his Fudoumine jacket, even though it was the only good workout jacket he had brought with him. Kamio assured him that everyone still wore theirs a lot (it felt too weird to wear the team uniforms from their different schools when they were playing together) and his prediction was held up when they arrived the next morning at the street courts and saw a field of dark sweats and white bands.

Even Tachibana had on his jacket, although in deference to the fact that he was also Hyoutei's vice captain, and would have to leave soon to take care of necessary fuckubuchou duties he couldn't quite get out of, he wore street clothes under it.

After the initial period of reaffirming that Shinji was in fact still here – Kamio had gone through that already that morning, although he hoped he hadn't been quite as obvious as the rest of the team – they got down to business.

"Okay," said Sakurai mischievously, "let's see how bad it is."

With stoicism that impressed Kamio, Shinji played Ishida and the consensus was that yes, it was really bad. But Kamio could tell Shinji had already improved from when he had played him, and he could tell that Shinji knew it too, because the dark-haired boy looked more peeved than upset at the jokes that lasted the whole day's practice and beyond.

Shinji submitted to the teasing with surprising restraint, only occasionally muttering to himself about it, and it was only the fact that he was improving so rapidly which made them tease him at all. By the fifth day of almost continuous tennis (minus one day of hanging out at Ishida's house for an impromptu barbeque when Shinji's arm had finally reached its limit and even the normally dispassionate boy couldn't help wincing visibly every time he tried to move), Shinji had even stopped scowling at the ball and was returning easy shots almost wickedly, and harder shots with growing ease.

By the time the weekend rolled around, he was no longer losing all the matches 0-6, and the average number of close games was creeping up from one to two.

His teammates had even gotten to the point where they stopped cheering every time he won a game. Well, almost.

So busy with tennis and transfer procedures – Shinji had already sat the Hyoutei exam and prestigious as the school was, he had barely had to review Kamio's textbooks to pass it with flying colors – they hadn't gotten around to doing anything about the living situation. There were certainly other dorms open in the building – they were really only there for the occasional foreign students who didn't have their own residences in the city – but Kamio's Atobe-standards-augmented apartment was almost ridiculously big and the bed was wide enough that they could maintain their own space while sleeping. So although neither had actually brought up the subject of rooming together permanently, Kamio was content enough to leave all that for later, and Shinji seemed the same way.

They hadn't yet opened up Shinji for public viewing, as it were, but Fuji had stopped by to chat with Tachibana and An, offer a few suggestions and take a few practice shots with his ever present camera, and Momoshiro had bumped into them at the street courts one afternoon and suggested dinner, during which Kamio's resolve to show Shinji he was no longer excitable quickly gave way to a shouting match at the biased way Momo related the facts of their quarter-finals match against each other. The fact that this made Shinji quietly laugh at him for the rest of the evening was more than worth the embarrassment.

Shinji, in fact, seemed to enjoy these encounters with outside people more than he ever had before, in some ways seeming more relaxed with them than with his teammates, who he still obviously felt guilty about from time to time. So when An showed up with Kirihara in tow, her boyfriend looking somewhat resigned as he always did when confronted with the Fudoumine players (who had, to be fair, given him a lot of flack over the years since he had started dating their adoptive little sister), Kamio simply waved in casual greeting.

"Hey, Shinji's almost finished with this round," he said, letting An give him a kiss on the cheek. "He was actually giving Mori a run for his money earlier." He smirked. "It was pretty funny. Pretty soon they're going to have to start playing more seriously."

Mori won the match, 6-2 and nodding with a smile to Shinji, immediately trotted over to where Uchimura sat and began a whispered consult about the match.

Breathing heavily, Shinji moved to the other side of the courts and accepted a towel from Kamio to wipe his face.

"Shinji! You're looking better!" An greeted him with a hug.

Kamio (trying not to stare as much as he wanted to at his sweat-drenched, deliciously flushed friend) instead caught the slight irritated twitch of Kirihara's lips. He had never been pleased about An's casual affection toward her friends and it had been the source of some of their biggest fights, since it was one of the few things An absolutely refused to change. Over the years, however, he had come to a grudging understanding of her close-knit relationship with the group of boys and rarely griped about it now.

That he would now have to get used to her interaction with Shinji as well, was something Kamio was perfectly happy to leave up to An to deal with. Kirihara had become something of a friend since becoming attached to An, but the way his sense of humor could sometimes turn brutal or his mood suddenly snap without warning, always kept Kamio a little wary. An claimed Kamio was simply overprotective, citing the fact that he also fretted over Atobe's relationship with her brother, but Kamio couldn't help it if he worried about the people close to him . . . .

"Here-"

Shinji gratefully took a long drink from the bottle Kamio held up. "Mori's gotten really tricky," he said between deep breaths. "I didn't expect him to have gotten so good at strategy."

An giggled. "They're all showing off for you."

"I don't see why," Shinji said a little petulantly. "They can beat me even when they're not. Ishida nearly put a hole in my racket yesterday just because he wanted to prove he's gotten stronger. I _know_ he's gotten stronger. I don't need him to ruin my only racket to prove it."

An giggled again, latching onto Shinji's arm happily and pressing her cheek against his shoulder. The irritated twitch appeared in Kirihara's expression again, but despite what had been nearly overwhelming public odds against it, the Rikkaidai devil _had_ managed to grow up a lot in the past few years.

"You're twisting your racket when you return," he said. "That's why Mori was able to slice it back so easily just now."

Shinji glanced at him, mildly surprised. "Aa, thank you."

"Akaya's really good at coaching," An beamed, leaving Shinji for the moment to take Kirihara's arm instead. "Even Oniichan asks his advice about form."

Embarrassed, Kirihara lost his twitch and grinned at An. Even Kamio had to admit he really was cute when he was staring love-struck at her like that. And since Kamio was very well aware of the urge to look about the same way at Shinji's still panting form, and Kirihara, damn his sharp eyes, obviously knew it, Kamio couldn't even tease him like he usually did.

"Yo, An-chan, Akaya." Mori and Uchimura joined the group, idly swinging their rackets.

"Shinji," Mori said apologetically, "I couldn't get out of my job today and Kyousuke has to help out at his parents in the store. Can you kill a few hours until Ishida gets here?"

"Aa," Shinji nodded easily. "There are a lot of practice drills I need to do."

Kamio didn't even try to suggest he play with Shinji; the dark-haired boy had made it clear from the first day of training that he wasn't playing Kamio until he thought he had a fighting chance. Kamio didn't really mind, since tennis was a passionate sport and he didn't really want to risk losing himself in the moment yet. His mantra was firmly "calm and steady" thesedays, and it was hard enough to maintain without throwing the heady rhythm of adrenaline and competition into the mix.

An bounced on her toes, eyes gleaming wickedly.

"In that case, Shinji, play a game with me," she suggested slyly. "I've never gotten to beat you before."

"You sound like Sakurai." Shinji looked close to pouting. "Was I really that annoying before, that everyone is enjoying beating me so much?"

"Yes," Mori, Uchimura and Kamio chorused immediately, sharing grins.

"Mori, lend me your racket?" An asked and the short-haired boy obediently tossed it to her.

"Show him your kick serve," he advised, winking.

"An-chan can kick serve?" Shinji asked, blinking as he took this in.

She giggled. "I _am_ Singles 3, after all," she pointed out. "And who do you think I watched to learn how to do it in the first place? I used to practice all the time when no one was looking."

"An-chan should have played more with us," Shinji suggested, the two of them walking back to the court. "But don't think you can use my own technique against me, because I may be rusty at serving right now but I can still remember how to counter something I used to use that often . . . ."

As Mori and Uchimura disappeared down the stairs, and Shinji won the serve, Kirihara sat down next to Kamio with a gusty sigh.

"So much for practicing with _me_," he mock huffed. "Although can't complain about the view, ne Akira-chan?"

Great, Kirihara was in that kind of mood today. Kamio concentrated on ignoring him as he watched An hit a sweet counter and Shinji manage to return it smoothly.

Kirihara grinned sharkily. "If you stare any harder, your eyes are going to fall out," he said, then gave an ascertaining _hmm_ noise under his breath. "An is going way easy on him."

"Of course she is. And I'm not staring," Kamio snapped, adding mentally _much_.

Kirihara shrugged. "Sanada-fukubuchou looks at Yukimura-buchou like that when he thinks no one is looking. You just suck at subtle, that's all. No news there."

"Fine," Kamio ground out. "Then let's play a match while we're waiting."

Kirihara's grin got wider and he settled back on the bench. "Nope, I wanna watch An. She's hot when she plays, even when she's taking it easy. So you just go ahead and stare at Ibu alllll you want. How about this? I'll stare at mine and you stare at yours, and first one to get hard loses."

Kamio flushed. "Don't be foul," he snapped. "That's An-chan you're talking about!"

"Well, we could both just stare at Ibu," Kirihara returned placidly, still enjoying his dubious train of thought. "But I still think An-chan's cuter. She'd probably hit me for saying so, though. _She_ thinks he's gorgeous. Good thing you're around or I might get jealous, ya know?"

Enjoying Kamio's ongoing attempts to ignore him, he leaned forward, studying the players. "I _guess_ he is pretty fine," he admitted critically, "with that hair and those legs and—hey, why are you smiling while I'm mocking you?"

Kamio looked at Kirihara smugly. "He's not twisting his racket anymore."

Startled, for the first time Kirihara studied Shinji with interest rather than mischief. "Heh, that was fast. Not bad," he said in a pleased tone, the part of him who had been captain his last year in junior high momentarily coming to the forefront.

"So will you shut up now and let me watch the game?"

"Kamio and Ibu, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—"

"SHUT UP!"

"Oh, sorry, I meant to say F-U-C—"

"_Teme!_"

"Kamio-kun! Akaya!" An's clear voice cut across the court to where Kamio was halfway to his feet, ready to fight, as Kirihara snickered uncontrollably.

They looked over to see both An and Shinji watching them expressionlessly.

"What are you two doing over there?" An demanded suspiciously.

"Nothing," they chorused, and sat quietly for the rest of the game.

* * *

Next: things get a bit more complicated

_StarryNight : I'm happy you're enjoying it!! Yeah, Kamio's stress level is going to take a beating before this is through . . . ._


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: Kirihara says he's not jealous of Shinji no matter what you think, and also the Prince of Tennis and the premise of this story are neither one the property of keyascribe.

WARNINGS: The usual few swearwords.

PAIRINGS: Kamio/Shinji, Tachibana/Atobe, An/Kirihara, every doubles pair, ever.

A/N: It continues . . . I should have said this in the last part, but Kirihara is basically anime!Akaya in this story, so the Senbatsu arc and Tachibana's hospitalization did happen . . . .

* * *

Finding Shinji

* * *

Part Four

issues; teammates; copious hugs

* * *

After the match (6-1, and Shinji had almost gotten the hang of kick serving again) it was natural to suggest they all go for lunch. As he had been with Fuji and even Momoshiro, Shinji was surprisingly relaxed around Kirihara – maybe because he hadn't heard all of the other boy's teasing, but probably simply because they didn't have a past history and so he had nothing to feel guilty about. Kirihara, too, seemed to have exercised his worst snarkiness for the day and was surprisingly well behaved as they ate.

Between boasting about An's matches and pulling out quirky stories about Rikkaidai (who in Kamio's opinion still made even Hyoutei seem well-adjusted and functional) Kirihara was at his off-beat best, full of wry charm that Shinji seemed to have surprisingly little trouble keeping up with. Even when he slyly brought up the "who is cuter, An or Ibu" argument, Shinji didn't so much as blink an eye before weighing in with his opinion that of course An-chan was cuter because girls always were, although there were ways to be cute that weren't girlish, because Kamio wasn't a girl but he was often cute, especially when he got upset like he was now, even though he claimed he didn't get upset like that anymore, but as far as Shinji could tell he still did but Kirihara-kun had seen him more often recently than Shinji had, so what did Kirihara-kun think?"

. . . all of which made An honestly laugh and even Kirihara smirk, even as Kamio fought the urge to bang his head against the table.

Listening to Shinji's calm responses to Kirihara's whimsical remarks, Kamio had to remind himself that Shinji was older now, had after all spent three years talking to other people. It made sense that when he wasn't feeling awkward or guilty around people, he wouldn't have any problems. Kamio was pleased about that, but couldn't help feeling oddly . . . propietal? Almost jealous, as stupid as that sounded. For as long as he had known Shinji he had been the one who could talk most easily with the dark-haired boy. He was still reasonably sure that was still the case, but he couldn't help feeling oddly possessive about the idea, somewhere under the usual relief that seeing Shinji relaxed always brought.

And yet when things went wrong he wasn't at all happy about it.

The end result of the straw poll was that An firmly voted that Shinji was prettier and Kamio prudently bolted for the drinks refill machine before he could be trapped into answering.

By the time he returned, the conversation had moved back to tennis, and how An had taught herself the kick serve by spying on Shinji. At least, that's how it obviously amused her to call it, even though Shinji pointed out that she was just watching at practice, and she should have asked because as long as Tachibana-san said it was okay, he would have taught it to her himself, which meant she could have spent her time more productively than stalking him.

An chortled at the description of "stalker", but now that the conversation was focused entirely on Shinji again, Kiihara didn't look like he was having quite so much fun.

"It's not like you just learned by watching," he said with an edge of irritation. "You worked really hard to get it right."

Shinji blinked at him. "Of course, An-chan must have worked hard to get as good as she is now. Kirihara-kun must be really good now, too, because everyone at Rikkaidai seems to work hard, and I don't think An-chan would ever want someone who wasn't good at tennis as her boyfriend."

"Well, yeah, I guess," Kirihara said, mollified. "At least practicing is better than just lying around all day. . . ."

"It's not like Shinji has been lazy for the past years," An rebuked him with a little swat on the arm. "He was on the swim team and they did really well, right?"

"They were good," Shinji agreed slowly. "The junior high and high school teams went to Nationals every year and we won twice."

Kamio couldn't help a whistle. He had seen medals in Shinji's pictures, but he hadn't realized they were from the Nationals . . . . .

"That's amazing, Shinji!" An chirped, eyes shining.

Beside her, Kirihara had gone still. "No, it's not," he said quietly.

An turned to him. "Akaya, what-?"

"How can you say that's great?" Kirihara said, tone sharpening, eyes going narrow. "_He_ gets to go to Nationals when it was him disappearing that meant you guys couldn't? How is that _great_?"

"Oi, Kirihara!" Kamio protested angrily, instantly protective. "That's none of your business, dammit. Shinji, don't liste—"

He trailed off at just how white Shinji's face had gone. He hadn't seen his friend look that pale since his first day back.

"Aa, that's true," Shinji said softly, not meeting either An or Kamio's eyes. "I keep almost forgetting. But I shouldn't. I shouldn't forget."

"Damn right you shouldn't," Kirihara agreed implacably. "Some stuff you can make up for, but for some things there's only one chance and when someone _blows_ it for everyone else, cause they're thinking more about _themselves _than their team, it's – "

"Akaya, that's enough!" An snapped.

"But if it wasn't for him, you guys –"

"That's _our_ business," An said firmly. "You have no right to—oh. Oh Shinji."

There were tears in Shinji's eyes. He didn't even seem to be noticing them, but – Shinji was crying.

_Shinji _was _crying. _

The silent tears flooded down his face and he blinked in almost shock as he felt them, as if he didn't know what was happening anymore than anyone else did.

In seconds, An and Kamio had closed the distance and wrapped their arms around him.

"Shinji!" An said pleadingly. "It's not like that. We're not angry. I promise we're not."

"Shit, uh, hey, I didn't mean—" Kirihara began, then stopped nervously at the rage in Kamio's expression.

"An-chan, get _him_ out of here," he whispered, tightening his hold protectively around Shinji.

Wordlessly, An stalked out of the restaurant and Kirihara followed behind as helplessly as if she had physically dragged him.

Outside, she whirled on him before he could speak – not that he had figured out anything to say in the seconds since leaving the table.

"Akaya, how could you?" An demanded, tears in her own eyes. "I trusted you and you – you – how could you _do_ that?!"

Kirihara slunk against the wall. An could always make his feel worse than even Sanada's heaviest punishments or Yukimura's gentlest remonstrances.

"Can I help it if I get tired of him being all you talk about now?" he protested angrily, half guilty, half accusing. "Like he's some superstar, even after he totally screwed his team over. You'd think you loved the guy or something!"

"I do love Shinji," An snapped. "Just like I love Kamio and Ishida and everyone on the team. They're like my family. They are incredibly important to me and yes, I love them. And I'm _in love_ with you. At least I was until five minutes ago. So you'd better go home and hope that tomorrow I remember _why_ I was. Meanwhile, I'm going to be with Akira and Shinji. If you can't deal with that, then that's your decision."

And she gave an angry swallowed sob and marched back into the restaurant.

He had been an ass again. Cursing, Kirihara pulled out his phone.

"Ah, Akaya," said Yanagi calmly after the second ring. "I was just thinking that given your track record, there was a 76 percent likelihood you would be calling in the next day or two."

"Shut up and just tell me what to do this time," Kirihara sighed.

_--_

Inside, Shinji had finally seemed to notice his tears and was rubbing at them as if they were a foreign substance, trying and failing to get them to stop.

"Shinji – Shinji it's okay," Kamio repeated urgently, almost pleading.

"I k-know, I'm not up-upset –" a sob choked out the rest of the sentence and Shinji looked honestly surprised about it. It was as if his emotions were doing what his mumbling usually did – unconsciously overflowing without him being aware of it.

"Shinji!" An raced back to the table, ignoring the growing stares from the other diners in the restaurant.

"A-An-chan, I'm really f-fine," Shinji's voice was shaking along with the rest of him. "He d-didn't s-say anything w-wrong. I just f-feel a little t-tired . . . ."

Kamio shared a helpless look with An. "Okay," he said trying to sound calm, because the blank look in Shinji's overwelling eyes was scaring the hell out of him. "We'll go home and you can rest. 'Kay?"

Shinji nodded, sniffling, and docilely followed them out of the restaurant. Luckily Kirihara had had the sense to disappear, because Kamio wouldn't have hesitated to put a fist into his face as hard as possible. Things were supposed to be going _well_ dammit! They were supposed to be getting easier!

"Kamio-kun –" An began, eyes wide and worried.

"It's okay," Kamio said grimly. "We'll just go back to the apartment and sleep it off."

She hesitated, then gave him a quick hug, and Shinji a longer one. "Don't give up, Shinji," she whispered. "You just got tired today, that's all."

Shinji nodded again, still sniffling, expression a mix of confused and miserable.

"Can you walk home?" Kamio asked worriedly. "Should I get a taxi?"

Shinji choked back another sob and shook his head. "It's fine," he managed. "We can walk. I'm o-okay. L-let's just w-walk home? P-please."

Kamio gritted his teeth as he listened to Shinji cry, and they walked home.

_--_

As soon as they reached the apartment Shinji simply curled up on the bed, facing away from Kamio, and was instantly asleep, as if he had reached the point where he had used up so much of his resources that his body and emotions had hit a failsafe and automatically shut down.

Kamio, in lieu of pacing or panicking (more) or hitting the wall until his fists bled, sat on the bed next to Shinji and watched him sleep. He only moved to answer his cell when first An, than Tachibana, then Ishida, Sakurai, Mori, Uchimura, An again, Ishida again and Mori again called for updates.

Finally, Tachibana called a final time, simply saying "We're coming", and half an hour later the doorbell rang to let Fudoumine inside, led of course by Tachibana Kippei who prudently carried with him enough leftovers to feed a small army – or six very worried tennis players and a sister.

After a quick check on Shinji, who didn't even stir at the entrance of his team, Tachibana pulled Kamio to one side and did his best to buchou the redhead out of complete hysteria.

Pacing like a trapped cat, Kamio gasped out the whole story; Tachibana listened, nodded, supported, calmed.

"It's probably not surprising something like that would happen," he said finally, sighing, because he should have seen it coming. "Shinji's been pushing hard – that's been his decision, not yours Akira so don't get upset at yourself. He's probably just reached his breaking point. Now that all the tension has escaped like this, he'll probably feel better than ever in the morning. So for the moment, let's just concentrate on getting through the day, okay? We'll worry about tomorrow if and when it needs worrying about."

Kamio relaxed into his captain's security gratefully. That Tachibana would know what to do in any time of crisis was a belief unshakably rooted in the Fudoumine players' hearts. Kamio had foolishly been too proud to ask for his help during the worst of his confusion in years past, but that wasn't a mistake he would make again, especially not when it concerned not him but Shinji.

Gratefully, he let Tachibana organize the team, sending An and Ishida into the kitchen to arrange snacks, Uchimura and Mori to take first watch over Shinji, and Sakurai on a run to the 7-11 around the corner to get drinks. By evening, however, the initial roster of pairs scheduled to take turns in the bedroom had warped and once again Shinji had become a group activity as even those not "on duty" migrated into the bedroom and found some pretense to stay. Night found the team draped in all positions around or half on the bed, wedged into the smallish room and encircling the exhausted Shinji like a protective circle.

An stayed as well, simply getting her own blanket and leaning against her brother. Kamio took up root on the far end of the bed and continued his watch until finally Shinji murmured in his sleep and shifted slightly, the first sign of life he had made since returning to the apartment, and then Kamio fell into an uneasy doze of his own.

_--_

Slightly sore from sleeping in odd positions, Fudoumine woke up to Shinji, looking confused and stunned to see them all but neither crying nor disappeared. In the midst of the following babble of assurances and chiding and reassuring touches, Kamio slipped out of the room and this time did let himself hit the wall. It hurt.

"Kamio-kun?" An had followed him, watching him worriedly. "Are you okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah, just – shit, that was freaky," he admitted, trying to smile.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, hugging him.

"I've never seen him cry before," Kamio said tightly, resting his chin in her hair. "It's like we're being cruel, making him be here."

She pulled away from him just far enough to be able to look him in the eye. "Don't hate me for saying this," she said seriously, "but Akaya was right. Not the way he said it, but - We can't just forget the past. I'd be more worried about Shinji if he wasn't upset sometimes. Not that I want him to cry, of course. But at least that means he's really _here_, really serious about making this his permanent life."

"Yeah, that's a good way to look at it," Kamio agreed, trying for flippant and failing. "I'll plan on thinking that way as soon as my heart starts beating again."

She laughed softly. "Go see him," she advised. "He looks so bewildered you'll never be able to stay mad."

"I'm not mad at Shinji," Kamio corrected, frowning. "I'm just – not very good at complicated stuff, you know?"

"We know," Mori answered for him, having just entered the kitchen to let Uchimura and Ishida have their share of Shinji-time.

"We _really_ know," Sakurai agreed fervently, following on Mori's heels. "An-chan, hug me too. I had to sleep with Tetsu's feet on me the whole night."

"You already got to hug Shinji," she rebuked, giving him a quick squeeze anyhow. "Don't think I don't know you're taking advantage of the situation."

"Yeah, he's almost confused enough to let me braid his hair, too," Sakurai smirked good-naturedly. "Akira, is he always this cute in the morning or it is only after special emotional trauma?"

"Don't answer that," Mori advised wisely. "Where's Tachibana-san anyway?"

"He's still on the phone trying to get out of fukubuchou duty for today . . . ." Ishida jumped into the conversation on cue, joining the group from out of the bedroom with a smothered yawn. Uchimura trailed behind, sliding on his usual cap.

"Your turn," he said as he passed Kamio, holding up a hand tag team style.

"Yeah," Ishida agreed. "So . . . we'll be making a doughnut run – yes, Masaya, all of us. Be back in 30, okay?"

"Tetsu is so _tact_ful," Sakurai singsonged, and Ishida swatted him.

"Sakurai, let's keep the mischief until _after_ breakfast," Tachibana's voice, with a slight tenor of buchou-ness, came from the bedroom. Snapping shut his cellphone as he strode over to the group, Tachibana focused mainly on Kamio.

"I've got to meet Keigo for an hour or so," he said, frowning. "But then I'll be back. Kamio, will you be okay here?"

Kamio flushed. _He_ wasn't the one everyone was supposed to be worried about. "I'm fine, I'll be fine," he muttered. "Just – Ishida, bring back some powdered doughnuts too. Not only that crap with the cream. And Shinji likes melon bread."

"Hai hai," Ishida gave a good-natured salute and steered Sakurai toward the door. Everyone else followed obediently, stretching out sore backs and shoulders as they walked.

"He's waiting for you," Tachibana said, resting a comforting hand on Kamio's shoulder. "But if you don't want to yet . . . ."

"What?" Kamio blinked rapidly. "Of course I want to see him. Why wouldn't I?"

"You did run out of the room the moment he woke up," Tachibana reminded him diplomatically.

Kamio flushed. "Oh, that – I mean, no, that wasn't . . . ." He sighed, pressing a hand against his forehead, and made a weak attempt at a grin. "Is this what being a captain feels like?"

Tachibana chuckled. "Akira, there were _six_ of you. Forget about bleaching my hair, there were days when I thought it would turn _white_ from watching all of you. But I never regretted it for a minute."

Kamio unconsciously squared his shoulders, responding to the resolution in his buchou's words. That was right.

He wasn't going to regret anything again.

_--_

Shinji was sitting in bed in a pile of blankets, looking embarrassed, exhausted, and generally hugged.

His eyes widened a little as Kamio entered, as if he would rather be anywhere else.

"Good morning," he mumbled nervously, slight color touching his pale face.

Kamio sighed. An-chan was right. He was completely adorable.

"Morning." He looked at the rumpled Shinji. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Shinji ran a hand through his hair, the strands falling into place. "Thirsty," he added. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that. I really don't know why it suddenly happened. I didn't want it to."

Kamio waved off the apology. "Nah, this last week has been pretty intense, huh?"

Shinji nodded and looked down at his hands.

Kamio sat down beside him, nudging him with his shoulder. "Hey," he said seriously, "don't stop talking on me now. I don't want to feel like I just dragged you back here without even asking your opinion about it. Even though I kind of _did._"

"I want to be here," Shinji said quickly. "I'm sorry to make you worry. I want to say it won't happen again. I don't feel like it will. But I wasn't expecting it to happen this time, either so I can't say for certain. That must be annoying. And I'm sorry about the Nationals. I haven't ever officially said that, but I am. Kirihara-kun's right, that's something I can never replace."

Kamio sighed. "I have a feeling everyone else has already said everything that I would say, so just – don't worry so much about it. We don't know what might have happened so it's no use dwelling too much on it, you know? I mean, there are more important things, more important than the past."

"Hyoutei won that year, right?"

"Yeah," Kamio grinned wryly. "Hiroshi gekokujou'd them right to the top. Fudoumine, we didn't really – I mean, we weren't really -"

"Because of me."

"Tachibana-san wasn't there either," Kamio said uncomfortably, "so we might not have had enough players anyhow . . . . And Mori hurt his wrist that year, which would have caused problems no matter what --"

"Akira –" Shinji stopped, seemed to change his mind. "You can tell me the truth," he said quietly. "I never want you to lie just to make me feel better. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you yesterday."

"Okay," said Kamio softly, reaching out to tuck dark hair back from his face. "Comb your hair and let's get ready breakfast. And oh – this is kind of a weird time for it, but seeing Momoshiro reminded me, and I got this out the other day when I went home. . . ." Picking it up from the desk, he held out a small bag with a logo in English writing on it. "Last time Echizen was here he left it for you."

Shinji flinched a little, frowned a little. "Echizen-kun?"

"Yeah, he comes back for vacation sometimes. I think he misses getting to say "mada mada da ne" in America. Anyway, I don't know why, 'cause he must have heard about what happened, but he just showed up at the street courts one day and gave me this for you. He was kind of cool about it. Just handed it over like he was sure you'd be back. Didn't even say anything snarky at all."

Carefully, Shinji peeled the seal away from the bag and opened it.

"Grip tape," he said.

He stared at the roll for a long time, blinking, then got out his racket, pulled the old tape away and started to wind the new material around the handle.

"There's still a lot left," he said eventually. "Do you want to use it?"

Kamio nodded and got out his racket, and quietly got a new grip.

_--_

Leaving Shinji to dress, Kamio was idly putting away dishes (immediately washed and set out to dry the night before, because Tachibana ran a tight ship) when the doorbell rang.

Setting down a plate, he walked over to the door and pulled it open. "Ishida, did you guys get drinks, cause we finished everything last —"

Then he noticed _who_ it was out there, and almost shut the door again.

"What do you want?" he growled.

It was possibly the most suicidal thing Kirihara had ever done, to voluntarily approach the place where most likely an entire team of hyperprotective and angry boys on full Ibu-alert were camped out just waiting for any excuse to hit him. But it was _still _better than having An hate him.

Kirihara shifted uncomfortably on the doorstep. For all that he had so much necessary practice over the last few years, apologizing had never been his forte.

"Uh, hey, I came to talk to Ibu," he muttered. "Um, if that's okay. Please."

Kamio hesitated, not wanting to let Kirihara make things any worse, but Shinji had already figured out what was going on.

"It's fine," he said, padding up to the door looking still wan but collected. "Kirihara-kun, I should apologize for reacting so badly yesterday."

"No way," Kirihara protested awkwardly. "Look, I was out of line saying that stuff. I just – well, An was always upset thinking about you, and I don't like to see her upset, so I kind of took it out in a bad way. I mean, we all have Nationals issues, I guess – except maybe Seigaku. But uh, look, I don't really have a good way to make it up to you, but if you want I can help you practice a little. I mean, you suck right now but you weren't that bad before, so I can play a bit with you. If you want . . . ." he trailed off anxiously.

Shinji shook his head, a wave of still tangled hair. "You were just saying the truth. I was the one who was being insensitive in the conversation. It was good of you to want to protect An-chan. I can see why she likes you, even if you did once almost destroy Tachibana-san's ankle and temporarily blind Fuji-san. I know I won't be any challenge to you like I am now, but I'd appreciate your help."

"Ah, okay, cool." Kirihara scratched his nose, a little embarrassed. "So now I've got to go grovel to An but I kinda want to not get the crap beaten out of me by Ishida and everyone, so uh, I'll mail you later Kamio, okay? And we can set up some sort of schedule or something."

"Cool," Kamio agreed, more or less okay with Akaya as long as Shinji was. "And by the way," he added as Kirihara sidled cautiously away, "it's Uchimura you should really watch out for. He kicks – hard."

Kirihara winced. "Uh, yeah, thanks for the warning . . . "

"I don't remember Uchimura kicking," Shinji commented, frowning, as Kamio shut the door with a grin.

"That's 'cause you weren't there the year he joined martial arts to strengthen his reflexes," Kamio explained with a smirk "I think he just got fed up with all the jokes about him being so short. Anyway, he got pretty good at it – which is why Sakurai has a black eye in his yearbook picture, and Uchimura looks guilty in his. Oh, and speaking of Sakurai, just to let you know, he's still after your hair."

Shinji nodded. "Aa, I know, although I don't know why he's so interested in braiding it when An-chan already did that years ago."

Kamio blinked. "Really?"

"It was the year I didn't have enough money to buy her a birthday present, so she said that if I let her play with my hair that would present enough. I really don't know why everyone likes my hair so much. She's probably disappointed that I cut it, too. Anyway, I refused to wear the school uniform, though. I'd rather go without lunch for a few weeks and buy her something than have someone like Sakurai get ahold of a picture of that and tell everyone that I like dressing up in girl's clothing. But if you tell Sakurai about this I'll have to tell him about the time An-chan did get you to wear the uniform."

Kamio's face was suddenly as red as his hair. "Y-you know about that?"

"She showed me the pictures the other day." Shinji's expression was smug and maybe just a little something else.

Kamio sank against a wall in horror. "An-chan . . ."

In the following silence, Shinji took a quick step forward, hesitated. "Akira? I -"

Kamio felt himself tensing little at the sudden change in Shinji's tone, and the other boy quickly looked away, training his eyes on the floor.

"-I'll try not to be so much trouble from now on," he promised softly.

"It's not trouble if it's you, Shinji," Kamio said quietly, almost sighing because it was so true that it kind of hurt, somehow.

"--Hey?" he added impulsively as Shinji moved away toward the kitchen. "You still like melon bread, right?"

"Aa."

"Good."

When the others came back, they found Kamio collapsed snoring on a couch and, after group awwwing for a minute, tied his hair into braids. And took pictures.

* * *

Next: Atobe is incensed he had to wait this long to make an appearance in the story.

_serenitatis417: Thanks for reading even if you don't dig the pairing! Not so many cameos are scheduled, I'm afraid, unless Echizen via grip tape counts . . . ._


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: Atobe has better things to do than remind the audience that neither the Prince of Tennis nor the premise of this story is the property of keyascribe.

WARNING: Total disregard for the fact that first year players would not get on the Regulars . . . .

PAIRINGS: Kamio/Shinji, Tachibana/Atobe, An/Kirihara, every doubles pair, ever (except for Kamio and Kabaji)

A/N: Taking a break from the plot because Atobe demanded to be included. And yes, it's Tachibana/Atobe. Because Atobe seems to go for the stoic but passionate captain types, and as someone who made the grandiose but stupid gesture of wagering his hair, I think he would appreciate Tachibana's grandiose but stupid gesture of letting himself get hit in the eye with a high speed tennis ball for atonement. As for Kippei, if you combined his arguably three favorite people – Shinji, An, and Fuji – you'd basically get Atobe. . . .

Played fast and loose with the Hyoutei Regulars in this part, but as with Seigaku, I think a lot of them like tennis, but not so much they would continue to dedicate their lives to it. Kamio is so adorably earnest and Shinji is so hilariously blasé, that really I do think Atobe would enjoy them, since probably his two favorite types are the ones whose eyes bug out when he's ridiculously dramatic, and then ones that just go _hmmmmm_ unconcernedly. . . . . .

Angst returns next part!

* * *

Finding Shinji

* * *

Part Five

Tachibana muses; Atobe has many clothes; Kamio blushes quite a lot

* * *

Shinji was practicing every day again, usually with one of his old team members in the afternoon and Kirihara in the morning. The Rikkaidai ex-captain was taking his offer to help seriously, drilling Shinji as intently as if Shinji were going to be one of his own players. Despite his strict upbringing at Sanada's knee, Kirihara was a surprisingly patient captain and his sharp tongue was rarely turned on any of the people under him, so despite the Lunch Incident, Kamio was more or less trusting him with Shinji – at least as long as they were on a tennis court and An was carefully watching.

Shinji still refused to practice with either Kamio or Tachibana, which didn't stop either of them from hanging around the street courts, either playing each other or just relaxing and watching the others play. Kamio was vaguely aware that there were probably other things he should be doing, school-related things, club-related things, but he couldn't quite care because the Shinji-related things were so much more important right now.

Obviously the rest of the team felt the same way; even Tachibana was slacking off (for him) and had gone so far as to offer to resign as vice-captain if his frequent absences during the vacation would be harmful to the Hyoutei team's morale. This had resulted in his boyfriend refusing to speak to him until he apologized for being so crude as to think Atobe couldn't handle by himself _with ease_ the few tedious albeit necessary decisions during the vacation weeks.

An added stipulation (brought by grinning if sleepy Jirou twenty minutes after the initial message was delivered by an apologetic Ootori), was that an invitation to Atobe's residence must be promptly and gracefully accepted by not only Tachibana but Kamio and Ibu-kun. By the time a scowling Shishido had been deployed to add yet another condition (dinner and a concert), Tachibana had already taken care of the first two requirements and (because he knew his boyfriend well) had voluntarily suggested the third.

"Keigo's been just waiting for an excuse to get you guys over there anyway," Tachibana admitted affectionately, just as fond of his boyfriend's quirks as he was of his teammates'. "He's already started his fall wardrobe shopping, so he's been complaining about wanting to clear some more things out."

Kamio rolled his eyes. "When does he not? But Shinji could use some more clothes, I guess. Shinji, you don't mind wearing recycled stuff, do you? Even I have to admit they're pretty nice – except when they're totally demented. Ah, sorry Tachibana-san. Anyway, you have to promise to be awed by their greatness, but other than that, Atobe-san's really cool about it all and he swears he would just throw everything out otherwise so I guess it works out . . . ."

Everyone had their own reactions to what had morphed over the last years into a somewhat seasonal activity of Atobe bestowing barely touched (sometimes _un_touched) and deeply fashionable hand-me-downs upon his boyfriend's slightly aghast team, a tradition which combined two of Atobe's most striking attributes – his excess of wardrobe and his remarkable (if high-handed) generosity toward those he liked.

Oshitari drolly called it Atobe "Exercising his fashion diva instincts"; Gakuto more snidely referred to it as Buchou Plays Dress Up; Shishido predictably found it lame, Ootori of course thought it was nice; Jirou was quite vocal in insisting that it was awesome and often came along to help make suggestions. Tachibana was grateful, knowing that the extra clothing helped considerably to ease the financial constraints of attending high school, especially on Kamio who even with a similar scholarship to Tachibana's own, was hard-pressed to keep up with dues so much higher than Fudoumine's had been.

Tachibana also knew that in the past, Keigo's dramatic flair had often interfered with his ability to give gifts as he wanted – or rather, to have those gifts accepted by their targets, since Atobe tended to pick favorites who were characterized by an excess of independence and a dislike of ostentation. With that in mind, Tachibana had quietly pleaded with his half amazed, half horrified team to accept the gifts for both their sakes and Atobe's.

And so what had started as a typical nonchalant gesture on Keigo's part when Tachibana had idly remarked that a certain shirt would look really good on Akira, had resulted – because if Atobe decided to do something it inevitably ended up being on the grandest scale possible - in Tachibana's old teammates somewhat bashfully becoming walking fashion statements (even if the fashion wasn't _quite _the cutting edge, something that Tachibana couldn't even tell and his players were actually rather relieved about). Atobe had not only immediately bequeathed the shirt, but had spent the rest of the morning going through his wardrobe and decisively picking out anything he had been going to toss out, anything not quite up to his current standards, and in short anything that he thought might suit Kamio or (because Atobe Keigo never did anything in halves) Ishida, Sakurai, Mori and Uchimura.

In the end he had amassed such a huge pile of clothes that Tachibana had had to beg him to put half of it back lest his team's heads exploded. Even so, Kamio and the others had taken more than a little convincing to accept the idea and it was only when Atobe had actually lost his temper and snapped "Kippei never lets me do anything for him so the least you could do is let me do something for the people he likes," that they had finally agreed – with the stipulation that someday they would figure out a way to pay him back. This had resulted in such a delighted Atobe that the whole team had had to put up with being carted around to fashionable restaurants for days on end, just so the rest of the city could be awed by their fashion makeover.

Of course the dining excursion also meant that he had an excuse to buy Tachibana new clothes as well, something that Oshitari had knowingly suggested was the real reason for the entire situation. Tachibana took the typically Oshitarian comment with a grain of salt; he was reasonably sure that Keigo's natural generosity had started it all, while his natural slyness had incorporated the bonus of clothing his boyfriend as he saw fit. Still, as long as Keigo kept firmly away from purples – and why were captains supposed to like purple so much anyhow? – and the more elaborate fashions, Tachibana wasn't needlessly proud enough to reject the gifts, especially not when it made his boyfriend so happy.

And if the rest of the old Hyoutei Regulars sniggered whenever he or Akira showed up in something obviously straight from Ginza (last season), well, Tachibana could usually grant them that much. They had, after all, accepted his and then Kamio's incorporation into Hyoutei with surprising good grace, and anyway if they ever became in danger of being too amused he could just challenge them to a match and make sure they left panting too hard to laugh.

As for Kamio, although the redhead probably wasn't aware of it, Kabaji, Ootori and Shishido had early on formed a sort of subtle alliance to look out for him, the two second years by alleviating some of the worst of the cutthroat Hyoutei atmosphere during classes, and Shishido by simply glaring at anyone who looked like they might make a comment about someone from an unknown school suddenly showing up in the halls. The fact that Kamio had already been dating a Hyoutei student when he entered the school, and was on demonstrably close terms with "that blonde guy on the tennis team who's always hanging out with Atobe-sama" had also helped ease his transition to the new school, and all in all it had thankfully gone much more smoothly than Tachibana had feared, or in fact than it had gone for Tachibana himself.

Thus, on the appointed day . . . .

"I've never seen Atobe-san's house except in magazines," Shinji commented calmly as they marched into the mansion's main reception hall, ushered in by the butler because Keigo knew Kamio hated it when that happened.

"It's huge," Kamio muttered. "Like really moronically. Seriously, only maniacs would want to live in a place like this. Uh, sorry Tachibana-san. But I swear, this place gets bigger every time I visit!"

Kamio had finally gotten to the point where he didn't gape (much) whenever he entered the mansion, but Tachibana had the sneaking suspicion that it remained one of Atobe's subtle hobbies to try to freak him out with opulence. In fact Tachibana was reasonably sure the redhead's volatile reactions amused Keigo so much that he arranged for visits to coincide with any remodeling – or this being Atobe Keigo, perhaps he arranged for remodeling to coincide with any visits. Tachibana's team were semi-regular guests now, but Kamio never stopped treating it like a surreal and somewhat disturbing experience; and never realized that was half of the reason Keigo liked invited him over so much.

Shinji, being Shinji, he simply blinked at all the luxury and murmured a standard polite apology for the intrusion as Keigo greeted them grandly from the top of the curving second floor staircase.

The unconcerned reaction seemed to please Keigo as a challenge and he was especially Atobe-ish as he sauntered them the long way around the house in order to point out anything that had been recently acquired, restored, or otherwise made that much more impressive. By the time they got to the dining room, Kamio was making choked noises in the back of his throat, while Shinji still looked mildly interested and more or less unimpressed - which in turn seemed to bemuse Keigo to the point of real enjoyment. Tachibana was pleased; he had known they would get along well.

Atobe also did what no one else had – asked Shinji about his school in Osaka. Oshitari had, Keigo revealed inbetween minute questions about the curriculum and teams, apparently at least known of the school, although it wasn't known for its tennis club (probably the reason Shinji had picked it). And the way Keigo said: "I see, _that's_ why" when Shinji explained about his switch to the swim team made Tachibana pretty sure that Keigo _had_ been keeping an eye out for his boyfriend's missing player.

Kamio tensed noticeably as they trod into swim team territory, but having been previously informed by Tachibana about Kirihara's misstep at the Lunch Incident, Keigo prudently steered the conversation back to himself; and although Shinji – so entirely re-immersed in tennis thesedays – hadn't mentioned anything about missing swimming, he was interested enough in the mention of Keigo's Olympic-size pool that they all naturally had to take an immediate tour of the facilities.

For the most part, Tachibana, like Kamio, was content to simply watch – Atobe certainly had no need of support when he decided to have a conversation – and make sure Shinji didn't get too overwhelmed. But as with everyone with whom he had no real past, the dark-haired boy didn't seem particularly nervous or tense. In fact, under Atobe's skill, Shinji was talking more than he usually did to anyone but Kamio and Tachibana was once again thankful for his boyfriend's tact.

Kamio looked pleased, too, though still vaguely on edge, alert and tensed in that way he was pre-game if he didn't have his music to distract him. Tachibana suspected it was mostly due to the Lunch Incident, the circumstances of which he had heard about it in immediate and furious detail from An the afternoon it happened. Luckily for Kirihara, he had also been privy to the equally fervent, if ebullient, description of the pains the Rikkaidai player had taken to make up for it the next day. Tachibana might be trying to give his team room, but that didn't mean he wasn't _extremel_y willing to beat a lesson of etiquette into anyone who needlessly hurt one of them. Even if it was An's boyfriend – in fact, _especially_ if it was.

Kirihara had proved himself mature enough to take care of his mistakes, however, and as far as Tachibana was aware, the last week had passed peacefully enough. They still got together, all of the team or whoever was available, most afternoons and several dinners out of 7, and Shinji was growing noticeably more comfortable, daily less shy and breakable. He had even relaxed enough to mutter a rant at the lack of quality of service at the last restaurant they had gone to, which amused his team so much that they had unanimously shut up and let him go on for upwards of a quarter of an hour before he realized and snapped his mouth shut with an annoyed look that sent them all into mild hysterics.

They had broken up early – Kamio, all nerves and hyper-rhythm thesedays, was practically falling asleep at the table and Shinji was meeting Kirihara every morning early for practice – but Tachibana had left with a relieved glow in the pit of his stomach. He was watching the past slowly mend itself before his very eyes, and he could be nothing less than deeply grateful for it. Still, he wouldn't be Fudoumine's buchou if he didn't worry a little, and while he was reasonably sure Shinji was over the rockiest parts of re-enty, he wasn't the only one Tachibana was concerned about.

So when Atobe insisted on showing Shinji the outdoor pool as well, Tachibana took the opportunity to move next to his ex-vice captain. "Kamio, how are you?" he asked quietly. "You look tired."

Kamio shook his head, the motion a little too automatic to be entirely trustworthy. "I'm fine." He brightened. "And Shinji's really settling in. It's feeling more and more – permanent, you know?"

"That's good to hear," Tachibana agreed. "But don't neglect yourself, Akira."

"Hai, Tachibana-san!" Kamio grinned, using his Fudoumine voice.

Tachibana chuckled, getting the hint. "All right, all right," he capitulated warmly. "I'll stop being a mother hen. Just do tell me if there's anything I can do. We're all more than eager to help in any way we can."

"I know – and I will, really," Kamio promised, flashing his old buchou a sincere grin. "And this is great – Atobe-san's really helping. Not just about clothes, I mean. I haven't seen Shinji this relaxed in a long time. After that thing with Kirihara – but now we're getting back in the rhythm, you know?"

Tachibana smiled at the trademark metaphor, ruffling Kamio's hair affectionately. "To be honest, I think Keigo's just excited to be able to have Shinji as a model," he only half joked, eyes warming as he contemplated the figure of his boyfriend walking Shinji back from the pool. "Since Ishida and Sakurai are too tall, Mori and Uchimura are too short, and you won't wear half of what he wants you to try."

Kamio shuddered as he pictured the lilacs and frills that so often cropped up in Atobe's discarded wardrobe. "Not even for you, Tachibana-san," he said fervently. "Nobody's going to get me into _anything _with ruffles."

"I bet Shinji would think it looked cute," Tachibana said innocently, pretending not to notice Kamio's immediate blush.

"T-Tachibana-san!" Kamio stuttered, composure thrown as it almost always was when suddenly presented with Tachibana's more devious sense of humor. Having imprinted so deeply with his captain's serious side the first years at Fudoumine, Kamio still hadn't quite come to terms that beneath his buchou's calm exterior was someone who was, after all, related to An, friends with Fuji, and Atobe Keigo's boyfriend.

"I don't know if Akira would look good in ruffles," Shinji's quiet voice came floating into the room ahead of him, sounding so contemplative that Kamio's color rapidly skyrocketed, while it was only years of being a supportive person that allowed Tachibana to choke back a chuckle.

"But I wouldn't think anyone would look good in ruffles," Shinji continued thoughtfully, reentering the room alongside a smirking Atobe, "but Atobe-san does so it must be possible. So maybe Kamio would look fine in them. Still, I don't think it really matches his personality very well. Lace or maybe mesh might be better-" Kamio gave a squawk – "or something shiny like satin, because Akira's bright like that . . . ."

"O-oi Shinji," Kamio protested, with a fearful look in Atobe's direction, "don't _encourage_ him! You don't know what he gets like!"

"Aan? Perhaps we'll have to have a test, then," Keigo said right on cue, eyes glinting. "I suppose I could find one or two garments that meet the set criteria . . . ."

"Nooooooo- Tachibana-san, stop him!"

"And no doubt we can unearth something along those same lines for Ibu-kun as well – for comparison purposes only, of course," Keigo continued implacably; and taking advantage of Kamio's momentary brain freeze at the thought, ushered them all upstairs.

_--_

Tachibana was always reasonably sure that at least half of Keigo's so-called "discards" were in fact new. His boyfriend had a staggering number of clothes to be sure, but suspicious items always cropped up, like pants far too long to fit someone Atobe's height but exactly the length for Ishida, or the deep red shirt that Kamio was currently trying on and that – while it would look good on Keigo because frankly everything _did – _complimented Kamio's hair far too perfectly to be purely a coincidence. He loved that about his boyfriend, he really did, that Keigo would not simply do a favor for Tachibana's friends, but would go all out because he simply enjoyed making people happy.

Making them "more aesthetically palatable to ore-sama's delicate eyes" was naturally just a bonus.

Of course even Kamio was suspicious when greens or brown – not Keigo's most flattering colors but well-suited to everyone on Tachibana's team – began to appear in the mix, but Keigo was well up to making the most ridiculous proclamations with élan and (in one of Tachibana's private top ten moments) had quickly convinced the redhead that "the current New York fashions had simply turned out to be unable to match up to ore-sama's more sophisticated coloring".

Atobe, used to the hard-bitten cynicism of Hyoutei, had been quite honestly charmed when he realized Kamio actually believed everything he said, even when it was patently ridiculous. But Tachibana's team had always had that earnest innocence about them . . . .

It might have been the start of Tachibana's feelings toward the Hyoutei captain, when he had happened to grace the street courts with his presence during one of Fudoumine's impromptu training sessions and afterward had turned to Tachibana and asked, "Are they _always_ like this?" And upon Tachibana's nod, the strangely serious rejoinder: "I could not be sure of the ability to shoulder the burden of such pure trust".

He might still have been thinking of the past incident with Tezuka's shoulder when he later added with surprisingly frank, if characteristically insightful, candor the opinion that: "Judging by certain incidents, it is perhaps just as well that not even I am given automatic free rein over my players or my actions." As true or not true as that might have been in the past, however, Tachibana had the feeling that Keigo would never do anything to disillusion his players or anyone who depended on him. As divasesque as the Hyoutei captain could still often act, he was unfailingly serious about his responsibilities.

Shishido, in a rare moment of confidence about his childhood friend, had once told Tachibana that he had calmed Keigo down. "When he was with Sanada he was always worried about showing no flaw, y'know? But now he lets himself get tired or pissy. Kinda human. That's sort of cool."

Tachibana wasn't at all sure if any of that was directly his doing, but he did treasure the fact that they could challenge each other without feeling they had to appear perfect. Tachibana knew he at least was far from perfect. He had made enough mistakes in his past and with his team over the years that even if he had ever harbored delusions of omnipotence they would have been long ago crushed.

It was one of the things Tachibana would always rebuke himself for, that he hadn't been more there for his team, first Shinji after their fierce loss at the Nationals, and then everyone, especially Kamio, the year after Tachibana had graduated Fudoumine. Dealing with a challenging new school, the pressure of switching from the role of coach to full-time player, and the ongoing struggle to try a long-distance and ultimately impossible relationship with Chitose had left him busier than he liked, and Akira had suffered from it. Kamio didn't seem to see it that way and Keigo swore he was taking too much on himself, but then Keigo had rarely seen them before Shinji left and wouldn't have been able to spot the differences as well as Tachibana.

Now he couldn't _wait_ until the next informal Hyoutei-Fudoumine barbeque/tennis day. He'd show them the strength of his entire team, united.

Naturally competitive and naturally proud, Tachibana was certainly (and not so secretly, Keigo informed him) waiting for the day when Shinji was back in shape enough to be able to play doubles and give some of Hyoutei's vaunted pairs a run for their money, because he had no doubt that between Kamio and Shinji, they could do some major damage even to partners who had been together for years. Akira's speed had grown from fast to breath-taking in the last few years, but his precision still suffered occasionally and in a singles court he still had trouble dealing with the stronger shots of some players. As soon as Shinji brushed up his technique enough to be able to take over the more precise parts of strategy, however, the pair of them might well become unstoppable.

Whether or not Shinji returned to competitive tennis, Tachibana wasn't at all sure at this point if he would ever return to being a real singles player – the psychological barriers as well as the sheer handicap of being three years behind made it unlikely, although if Shinji really put his mind to it, Tachibana had enough experience with the dark-haired prodigy to guess anything could happen. He also knew Shinji had decided not to ask him to play until Shinji felt he had returned to a more tolerable lskill evel, and so Tachibana was trying to stay out of it as much as possible, making sure they knew he was available for anything, anytime, but reluctantly accepting that it might put too much pressure on Shinji if he were to step in directly to oversee his tennis rehabilitation.

He was indebted to Kirihara for taking it over in his stead – because honestly it had been pretty much killing him not to do it – and it was an additional bemusement to see that while An's boyfriend had initially volunteered only to make amends (and possibly pay off old debts), he was already changing his tune and talking of Shinji's progress with the genuine enthusiasm that only a captain now unable to captain could muster. Tachibana understood _that_ well enough, even though he rarely had any complaints about Atobe's captaincy, and even fewer regrets of not transferring to a high school where he would have been assured the eventual position of buchou.

He had asked Kirihara's opinion – something that always surprised and pleased the younger boy so much that he always tried to remember to do it more often – about whether it would be a good idea to suggest playing with Shinji soon, partly because he was curious to gauge his fluctuating skill level but mostly because he really really wanted to. Kirihara had been unexpectedly serious in his consideration and had finally suggested he put it off for at least another week, until Shinji was sharper. The fact that they were talking about weeks, rather than months, had made Tachibana so smugly proud that Shishido had accused him of taking over Atobe's personality, causing Gakuto (still part of their group even though he and Oshitari no longer played on the school team) to choke on his French fries and require Ootori to worriedly pound him on the back until he could breathe again.

Now Tachibana watched Shinji pick up a shirt with a soft noise of appreciation for its softness, and knew without even seeing his boyfriend's expression that the next time, there would be more of that texture. Which suited Tachibana just fine; Keigo did wear most of what he gave away, after all, and Tachibana had his own soft spot for fine texture. And for all his assumed cool, Keigo was an imminently snuggable person whenever he let his guards down.

Coming from an isolated childhood and as an only child, Tachibana knew Keigo still viewed his own touchiness with his sister as something of a surprise - and Fuji had had to stop being so physically affectionate after a series of tense misunderstands. Jirou, of course, preferred human targets to sleep on, but for the most part even the long-standing couples in the team rarely touched in public. And while Fudoumine had never had the same tradition of casual and widespread glomping that Seigaku did, compared with the always-careful atmosphere of Hyoutei, they did tend to "flutter" as Keigo put it, in constant close if not necessarily physical contact at all times. That, too, was something that had changed after Shinji had disappeared.

It was partly thanks to that painfully intimate knowledge of how difficult it was to break up a bonded team, that Tachibana had been initially leery of going to Hyoutei, into a situation where his presence would most likely cause one of the group to leave the Regulars – because as fulfilling as his years at Fudoumine had been, he was not going to be on the tennis team without dedicating himself wholly to playing competitively again. It had been an unexpected blessing when Jirou, after yawning widely, had calmly volunteered to give up his expectation of a position as long as Atobe and Tachibana promised to still play with him sometimes (since that was the only thing that interested him anyhow) and as long as he could still come to tennis practice to sleep (since that was all he did anyway).

Keigo had been a little hurt, even back then with his scant knowledge of the Hyotei captain's character Tachibana had been able to sense that. But it was Jirou's lack of widespread interest in tennis that had stopped him both from becoming a truly superior player and from being a truly good match for Atobe. After watching for half a year as Atobe instead threw himself into a damaging half relationship, half competition with Rikkaidai's Sanada (and being in the middle of exactly the same kind of situation with Chitose) Tachibana had finally been more than ready to suggest an alternate arrangement and had never looked back.

By the time Kamio had entered the school, Oshitari was already winning prizes for his amateur shorts (mostly surprisingly gushy romance) and so it was a logical choice for the Dirty Pair to retire from active participation, although like Jirou they still spent half their afternoons at practice, content to play and taunt the younger players. In replacement, Kamio and Kabaji had proved a surprisingly good doubles two pair for the later half of the year.

Kabaji's sudden and – to all but Keigo – completely unexpected retirement from the team after his Freshman year in order to take over partial management of his family's company (not as large as Aobe's, of course, but nevertheless quite substantial in its own right) had shocked the Regulars to the core. Mostly because it required Kabaji to speak lengthy and complex sentences on a regular basis, something that Gakuto had spent an hour swearing to Tachibana was impossible and bordering on the realms of the Twilight Zone. Tachibana, however, had always liked the refreshingly no-nonsense Kabaji and had in fact often held several multi-syllable conversations with him, much to Keigo's initial shock and then obvious pleasure. In fact, their first official date had been mostly spent discussing the quiet player and the history of his acquaintance with Atobe.

This year, Kamio and Hiroshi had traded off playing doubles and being singles alternate, which had worked reasonably well despite their different styles. There were still two more tennis seasons left in high school for Kamio, however, and now that Shinji was back . . . .

Well, perhaps Tachibana could understand why Shishido had accused him of looking smug, after all.

He watched now, feeling so satisfied that it was probably rolling off him in waves, as his long-lost player picked out a (non-ruffled) shirt and tilting his head critically as he held it up, offered it to Kamio, who blushed and made some sort comment with a quick grin.

Next to him, he heard Keigo make a small, put-upon sigh. "I had to put up with a year of this from Shishido and Ootori, you know," he murmured. "That I would be surrounded by yet another such monumentally unresolved couple boggles existence."

"They're taking things slow," Tachibana remonstrated quietly. "It's a sensible idea, with their history."

"They're half a room apart and they're still practically making out," Keigo replied archly, "and don't suppose I don't see you grinning like an idiot father about it."

Tachibana just chuckled. A good part of the reason he and Keigo worked well together was that despite the apparent differences, their leadership styles were actually remarkably similar. They both took real interest in their players' lives, enjoyed being social with them more than being social in general. And while Keigo had at first invited Tachibana's team over simply for Tachibana's sake, they had grown on him – because how could they not? – and Tachibana knew that now Keigo felt a genuine protective instinct toward them.

He treated Kamio especially like a favorite little brother, the one who everyone liked to tease (Tachibana suspected it was the first time Keigo had had someone around to fluster since the old Hyoutei Regulars tended toward reacting to his more outrageous statements with merely bland looks or – sometimes – the finger) and Tachibana was quite sure that Keigo was secretly looking forward to seeing how things played out between Kamio and Shinji almost as much as he was; the Hyoutei captain had a speculating gleam to his shrewd grey eyes that bespoke of Insight.

Or maybe the gleam was simply a connoisseur's satisfaction at just how good Shinji looked in Atobe's clothing. Shinji was right, as attractive as Kamio looked in nice clothes, his style was decidedly different from Keigo's. But Shinji's winter coloring and aloof demeanor complimented Atobe's own style dramatically well.

Currently, Shinji was something out of a magazine in sleek dark jeans and a long, thin, white shirt made of some clingy and half see-through material, cut in a low V in front and sleeves running down over his palms. Tachibana knew even he was gaping a bit at the way his normally indifferently dressed player looked, but was thankful that Atobe's ego would never be threatened by something as insignificant as someone else looking utterly ravishable.

"Wish I could have seen you in _that_," Tachibana murmured, enjoying the way Kamio's eyes were bulging as Shinji unconcernedly tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind his ear and muttered over the difficulties of washing such a complicated kind of fabric. . . . .

"I'll make it a point to find something much better for your viewing pleasure," Keigo purred back magnanimously.

Tachibana allowed himself to trace circles along the base of Keigo's back. As outwardly calm and responsible as he tried to be, his real style was a passionate one, and it was hard to keep his hands off Keigo when he spoke in just that tone of voice. Which of course was why the Hyoutei captain used it. Tachibana did try to restrain his more untoward impulses while his team was around, since the remnants of their hero worship tended to interfere with their reactions to their buchou's love life; Kamio in particular never seemed quite sure whether to snicker like he did with Sakurai and Ishida's flirting, or try to protect Tachibana's honor. However, since he was reasonably sure that Kamio wasn't seeing anything that wasn't within a one foot radius of Shinji right now, he decided he could risk a quick nibble on his boyfriend's neck with impunity.

"Well," Keigo announced, sounding pleased, "before any of us in this room feel the urge too strongly to rip the clothes off of any other one, let us go out to dinner."

"Oi, you better be talking about yourself, pervert, you're the one who can never keep his hands to himself!" Kamio protested immediately. "Oh, uh, sorry Tachibana-san," he added sheepishly as Tachibana raised an eyebrow at him.

"As long as his hands are going in my direction, I don't particularly mind," he said mildly, and Kamio flushed like a sunset. Tachibana really had been hanging around Keigo and An, not to mention Fuji, too much, because he had to admit that – within reason – it really was fun to see the redhead in full mental overload.

Maybe Shinji thought so too, because he possibly innocently added, "That makes sense. Tachibana-san is a passionate person, even though he might not seem like it at first. And if he likes Atobe-san then that probably means Atobe-san is also a passionate person. It's logical that two passionate people would act passionately. They're both intelligent so they probably know enough not to act passionately in places where they shouldn't, like school or the supermarket, but it's reasonable for them to act naturally around people they know. Atobe-san doesn't really know me, but Tachibana-san does, so that's probably good enough. And they both know you, so I'm sure you've seen them acting passionately before."

"Shinji, don't talk about it -!"

"Indeed, I would have thought you'd have gotten used to it by now," Keigo agreed, and he and Shinji were really getting along so well that Tachibana was almost worried at the kind of laconic havoc they could wreak in the future if they felt like it. "Perhaps we'll have to arrange to be more demonstrative in the future, although I'm not sure I have ever _been_ to a supermarket before . . . ."

"Anything but that --" Kamio groaned.

"Supermarkets really aren't a good place for acting passionately," Shinji said calmly. "A park or an amusement park ride would be better. The mall might be okay, too, but sometimes you get yelled at by an old person."

"Have we ever gone to an amusement park?" Keigo immediately asked, turning definitely not innocently to Tachibana.

Tachibana wasn't actually sure if he wanted to know how Shinji had suddenly become such an expert on places to make out, and Kamio looked like the only reason he wasn't banging his head against a wall was that he was afraid of ruining the expensive crown molding.

"Keigo, you _bought_ an amusement park," he reminded his boyfriend.

"Tsk, that was only rented for Kabaji's birthday," dismissed the hyper rich captain. "And you and I weren't together, so it hardly counts."

Kamio looked on the verge of hyper_ventilating_. "I don't know why I should even be listening to a guy who had _more than one_ _shirt _combining lace, mesh _and _satin!" he grumped. "_And_ that other one with all that _and ruffles_!"

And as if he had been waiting for such a comment – he might very well have been – Atobe's eyes suddenly sharpened, in that way that reminded Tachibana of the moment he delivered a killing blow in tennis. His tone when he responded, however, was light to the point of nonchalance.

"Yes, I suppose that one might have been a touch extreme," he surprised them all by saying airily. "Of course, past mistakes are simply for overcoming, after all."

And then Tachibana had to make up some excuse, immediately, for pulling his boyfriend into a private place and kissing him.

"Keigo," he said, "if we're going out maybe I need a better shirt myself."

"But of course, Kippei," Keigo replied. "Step this way into my bedroom."

"But we're in your bedroom," Kamio protested (definitely) innocently.

"My other bedroom, of course."

Once inside said adjacent room, Keigo submitted with good grace to letting Tachibana push him against the nearest wall (no crown molding) for a thorough demonstration of his – indeed passionate - appreciation.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, once they had come up for air, in case the kiss had been in any way unclear.

"It _did_ hurt to malign my shirt," Keigo said loftily, playing with the buttons on Tachibana's own outfit. "But sometimes sacrifices are necessary."

"It really is an awful shirt."

"It's not as if I decide the fashions," Keigo said mildly. "I just wear them and look extremely good."

And since it was hard to argue with that, Tachibana settled for kissing him again.

" . . . Uh, Tachibana-san?" After a minute, Kamio's hesitant voice filtered into the room, and then in a lower tone meant for Shinji they could hear him ask, "What do you think they're _doing_ in there?"

"Probably kissing Atobe-san for making me feel better," came Shinji's implacable reply and Tachibana choked at the nonchalant and spot on guess. "Or maybe they're kissing for another reason. I'm pretty sure they're kissing, though, because it really looked like Tachibana-san wanted to kiss him just now. Atobe-san's not the only one who's made me feel better, and I don't think Tachibana-san goes around kissing everyone who does, or else he'd have to be kissing you and the team a lot, which would be sort of pervy. Tachibana-san's not pervy, which is good, because I wouldn't want him kissing you or the team. Kissing Atobe-san is different, though, because they're going out."

"Shinji, stop, I don't even want to think about it!"

"It makes sense that Tachibana-san would go out with someone he wanted to kiss a lot, although it would be better if Tachibana-san and Atobe-san didn't kiss too much right now, because I'm hungry and right now it's too risky for either of us to go into the room, so we can only stand outside and call their names. If they're kissing too hard, they might not hear us calling and then we'll never get dinner."

"Shinji, seriously, my ears are bleeding here!"

"I think we're pretty well busted," Tachibana murmured, regretfully pulling his hand out from under his boyfriend's shirt.

"Any reasonable pair would be taking this opportunity and putting it to better advantage than talking about us," Keigo said with stately disapproval, brushing a hand through his hair to set it to rights. "I realize Kamio-kun is hopeless, but I had higher hopes for Ibu-kun. I'm disappointed in him."

"They're taking it slow," Tachibana reminded him patiently.

Keigo sniffed. "Ah, look, this garment has been wrinkled. I must change."

"You're not going to wear –"

Just to make a point, he did. And even though it was all that and purple too, it did in fact look _extremely _good.

* * *

_Next: The plot is jumpstarted by ye olde ex boyfriend, and Kamio gets his turn to start having issues, too._

OMAKE:

Atobe: By the way, Kippei you do realize we're just standing here watching your two attractive young players change clothes, yes?

Tachibana: Yes, but not in a pervy kind of way, right?

Atobe: Hmmm, yes, well . . . .

Tachibana: _Masaka!_ Could it be that you are only interested in getting Kamio and Shinji together so we can have some kind of kinky foursome?! As their buchou and role model, I cannot allow that!

:shoulder Fuji angel: Tachibana, be true to your inner self!

Tachibana: . . . all right, maybe we can.

Kamio, to Shinji: What do you think they're talking about over there? Should we be worried?

Shinji: #strange glint in eyes#

Kamio: . . . I'm going to run away now.

:shoulder Fuji angel: In that case, can I join in instead?

* * *

_serenitatis417: No kidding, I don't even like Yukimura and I still thought he should have won!  
_

_StarryNight: There's got to be a "getting to hug Shinji" waiting list out there somewhere we can all sign up on . . . ._

_GataAqua: Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too!_


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: Hiroshi's not even in this, so he doesn't care that neither the Prince of Tennis nor the story premise are the author's. Gekokujou.

WARNINGS: M+ rating due to Kamio's vocabulary (and body) demonstrating even more stress than usual.

PAIRINGS: Shinji/Kamio, Kamio/Ex-Boyfriend

A/N: We now return you to your regularly schedule Shinji/Kamio angst.

Next to last chapter! Shinji is getting tired of waiting . . . . .

* * *

Finding Shinji

* * *

Part Six

catalyst; the past; baby steps forward

* * *

It was another week into summer vacation and Kamio was still firmly enmeshed in Planet Shinji. And Planet Shinji was looking sexy as hell these days - not that he ever didn't, but thanks to Atobe's fashion revamp Kamio was having a harder and harder time not _doing _something about it. He had made the decision to be mature and responsible and he was sticking to that, but he had made said decision before Shinji had started wandering around in off the shoulder Bohemia and hip-hugging faux linen.

There had been low whistles the first time post-Atobe that they had met the team, and then as one, everyone but Shinji had swiveled to look at Kamio, who had scowled and mouthed the most obvious "NO" he could without attracting Shinji's attention.

It _was_ NO, goddammit, because he was being mature and responsible and maybe he could just accidentally lose one or two of Shinji's new shirts in the wash, like the dark sleeveless thing that made people turn and watch them as they passed, and that deadly, clingy white one . . . .

The fact that Shinji obviously looked on Kamio's own new acquisitions with open approval was not helping matters, either. Things were reaching a point of no return - Kamio knew that as well as everyone else did - but there were still things to do before that point was reached. He wanted to be prepared, controlled, ready for anything -

And so of course that's not what happened at all.

Really, everything was going too well. At the rate Shinji was going, he would certainly be able to get on the subRegulars by the official start of tennis practice. At the rate Kamio was going, he was going to – well, confess was a stupid word, but that's what it amounted to. He was pretty sure Shinji understood, but there hadn't been any _words_, he hadn't actually _said_ it – _asked_ it – yet, because before he could do that, there were still things to do, to get ready for. . . . .

Intent on preparing for the rapidly approaching future, Kamio had honestly forgotten most specific markers of time, other than a vague division of Pre- and Post-Shinji. If he had been less scattered, more his normal self, he would have made preparations, arranged things more carefully. Not that he had ever been any good at that kind of thing. Still, he would have at least _looked at a calendar_ once in a while, which would have saved some of the royal fuck-up that started when, during a perfectly ordinary walk back from the courts, Kamio suddenly felt a pair of arms twine around him from behind and heard a familiar teasing voice whisper into his ear.

He had always meant to tell Shinji, up-front, calmly, about Kato and his past history. It wasn't like it should be a problem, or something upsetting. Dating was a natural thing, after all; he had dated An-chan too, after a fashion. There was no reason why Shinji shouldn't be fine, or at least deal, with the common, everyday revelation that Kamio had an ex-boyfriend. But whether it was because common or not, it _was_ still a revelation, or because it _was_ a _boy_friend, Kamio hadn't wanted to stir up complicated matters again just yet, had just wanted to enjoy a few days of peace and quiet before he started up the soul-bearing stuff once more.

He was such a fucking idiot.

"Tadaima, lover," said Kato's husky voice, hot on his ear.

And Kamio froze, because yes, he _was _pretty sure Shinji understood, hoped he did, wanted him to, but _this_ was the last way he wanted to confirm the subject -

"Kato," he said firmly, trying to pry himself out of the other's unwelcome embrace, concentrating on putting distance between himself and the other boy.

"That's it? Didn't you miss me?" his bastard of an ex-boyfriend whined, arms tightening as he showed off his dubious sense of humor at the worst time

"Or maybe you didn't recognize me 'cause of the hair?" He craned around, using his height to lean over Kamio's shoulder and display his loose ponytail. It had long streaks of gold, something he had obviously picked up in America.

"What do you think?" he asked, nuzzling Kamio's neck. "I've been growing it; I know how much you like it long."

Kamio didn't dare look over at Shinji.

"Kato, let go," he said unsteadily. "You're being rude."

Kato wasn't being serious – he rarely was, unless he was worried about someone – but Kamio could feel things spiraling out of control and it was pushing him close to panic.

Kato blinked at the odd way his ex-boyfriend was reacting. Usually it would have been all splutters and verbal abuse by now.

"You really did forget I was coming back this week, didn't you?" he asked curiously. "What, did you find some new boy toy and forget all about your poor loving senpai . . .?"

Kamio stiffened, breath hissing through his teeth – because really could Kato say anything else to make things worse? And now he did look . . . and the only time Kamio could remember seeing anything like the expression on Shinji's face was when he fought over playing Echizen.

"Why are you touching Akira?" he asked flatly, and Kamio had _never_ quite heard him use that tone of voice before. "You should let go of him. I don't know who you are, but there's no reason for you to be touching him like that, so stop."

"Ah, my bad, just force of habit y'know?" Kato squeezed Kamio again, never worried about exhibitionism even around strangers. "So seriously, no welcome back kiss?" he teased.

Finally, Kamio's self-preservation instincts kicked in and got his mouth moving.

"S-stop fooling around, dammit," he yelped. "Why would I kiss you? That was years ago! And you broke up with me, remember?"

"Is that how you remember it?" Kato asked neutrally. "I seem to recall something about calling the wrong name out in bed –"

Really angry now, furious and mortified, Kamio twisted out of Kato's hold, shoving him away so hard he took a few steps to balance himself.

"All of that was more than a fucking _year_ ago," he snarled. "Give me a break, you haven't even been in the _country_ since fall."

"Well, if that's all that's been stopping you," Kato grinned – and was intersected by Shinji, who looked well ready to punch him with no compunction.

"I don't know who you are," Shinji said levelly, and the last time Kamio had seen Shinji this angry he had been about to break bones with a tennis racket, "but you're annoying Kamio. Even if you two have a past history or something you shouldn't be acting in a way that upsets him. Especially if you have a past history, because that means you should know how much he doesn't like being annoyed like this. I've annoyed him in the past, too, but when I did I tried to fix it. I don't go around trying to make him more annoyed on purpose. That's not the sort of thing anyone should to do another person, especially to Kamio, so you should stop it. Now."

"Shinji – " Kamio started, trying to calm the other boy down before things got more out of control than they already were . . . and then realized he had just sent everything to hell himself.

He bit down a curse as he saw Kato's eyes go wide in recognition of the name. This was Kato, after all, who had done one hell of a heroic job picking up the pieces that Kamio had broken into in the wake of Shinji's disappearance. He probably didn't deserve to find out about things this way, either.

"Shinji? _The _Shinji?" he asked slowly, eyes narrowing. "Well, how about that."

This time, Kamio noted, Shinji was so mad that he didn't even flinch at the tone of loaded recognition. He was too angry even to be guilty.

"I admit you're not exactly how I pictured you," Kato said slowly. "I didn't know Akira's type was so . . . delicate."

Kamio winced at how Shinji's eyes flashed at Kato's casual use of his first name. "I don't think it's any of your business what Kamio's type might be," he said coldly. "You shouldn't even be talking about things like that so casually, it's impolite and not fair to Kamio."

"Oh? Is that so?" Kato drawled.

Fuck, Shinji really was going to hit him.

"Shinji – please," Kamio interjected hopelessly, moving in front of the dark-haired boy, suddenly feeling tired to his bones.

"Yeah, this is Shinji," he continued wearily, turning to Kato. "He's . . . back now. For good. So just . . . quit playing around, 'kay Kato? I know you like to joke, but it's been kind of an intense few weeks."

Eyes still narrow, Kato nodded slowly, raking in Shinji. "I guess so," he said finally. "In that case, sorry, didn't mean to tease you so much – even though it's hard to help it when you're so cute flustered."

"Akira doesn't need to be flustered to be cute," Shinji said icily, still glaring at Kato. "He looks best when he's happy."

Kato hesitated a moment, then reached up and tugged at an earlobe "Yeah, you have a good point there," he capitulated. "I used to tease him just to get him riled up, but you've probably never had that problem, mm?"

"_Kato_," Kamio hissed, going from pale to red in an instant.

"Sure sure, I get it," Kato gave an airy wave. "Didn't mean to be trespassing on someone else's property. Just took me a minute to notice the new "Keep Out" signs, you know?"

"Sorry, I should have mailed you," Kamio mumbled, knowing it was the truth but wouldn't make Shinji any happier to hear.

"Nah, I'm just the ex, no worries. I officially withdraw any and all requests for welcome home affection." Kato gave Kamio a short, thoughtful look, protective instincts obviously running at full. "I'll see you around, though, okay? As friends."

"Sure –"

Oddly, all that Kamio could think as they watched Kato walk away, was that it had actually gone better than could be expected.

So why did it feel like Shinji was gonna kill him?

_--_

By the time they had finished dinner and returned to the dorms, Shinji's silence was driving Kamio crazy. The unexpectedness of Kato's return, combined with Shinji's sudden and pointed quiet – was he upset? Angry? Trying to guilt Kamio somehow? – was making Kamio's stomach twist in knots. On top of which, _Shinji_ had been the one to disappear for years. _Shinji_ had no reason to judge anything Kamio had done.

"Listen, Shinji," he said, trying not to sound annoyed, or worse, guilty, when there was nothing to be guilty about, "we need to get this straight. I appreciate you sticking up for me back there, I really do, and I guess it was probably a surprise, meeting Kato that way but . . . shit, I don't want to feel . . . I mean, I know it feels like, like you and I have been . . . _together_ . . . for years, but we really haven't. You know?"

Shinji nodded, looking down so that hair curtained his expression. "I know," he said softly. "I didn't mean to be jealous. I just got annoyed. I'm sorry."

"And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, even if Kato is all in the past, but you have no right to be mad at me," Kamio pointed out, still trying to keep calm and not lose his temper.

Shinji didn't quite meet his eyes. "I know," he mumbled, not his usual mutter but a true, conflicted, mumble. "I'm not mad at you or anything, and even if I was I wouldn't have the right to be. But I'm not. I didn't like seeing him but that's not your fault. Nothing is your fault. I'm sorry."

Kamio sighed, slumping onto the bed. "The first year – it was hard, Shinji. I got a little screwed up, wasn't eating right, got into some fights. That kind of thing. It wasn't just about you—" he added hurriedly to forestall the guilt growing in Shinji's expression. "It was just – there was stuff I had to work through. Then Kato came along and he really worked hard, straightening me up. He was really . . . nice, you know? I owe him a lot. I guess the rest was natural. I mean, it never really got very serious and then he went abroad and that was it, although we're still friends."

"You don't have to explain anything," Shinji said quietly. "I was surprised, but it's not really surprising at all. If it wasn't An-chan, of course it would be someone."

Kamio looked at him. "Did you – I mean, was there anyone?" he asked, willing his voice to stay steady because damnit, all of the things he had just lectured Shinji about applied to him as well.

Still, it hurt when Shinji nodded in assent. It was ridiculous, but it really hurt.

"The captain of the swim team last year," Shinji said in a low voice. "He liked me. He really liked touching me. He really wanted to – and I didn't really mind, so we went out for most of the year."

The way Shinji said it, the very thought of Shinji just letting himself be touched, probably being pushed into sex, just because he was too passive to care that he was being taken advantage of, made Kamio see sudden, sharp red.

"Dammit, Shinji," he exploded, "at least I _enjoyed_ it!"

Then he froze, processing what he had just said. It was a crude thing to say, though he hadn't meant it that way.

Not surprisingly, however, Shinji took both the awkwardness and the anger in stride, nodding calmly. "Aa, I realize that it wasn't a very healthy relationship. He realized it too, after a while. He was really upset because he always touched me but I never touched him first. I really wasn't being a good boyfriend that way, I know that; I kept thinking I would start to want to touch him, but I never did, even though it wasn't a bad thing when he touched me. But it wasn't a good relationship."

"What happened?" Kamio asked more quietly.

"We had a big fight, just after a meet. He was really upset. Said it was obvious I wasn't in love with him, and I said I didn't think he was in love with me, either. That probably wasn't a very nice thing to say, although I still think it was true. He thought there was someone else and I was cheating on him. We had a big argument and he ended up hitting me through a window."

"He _what_?"

The red was back in Kamio's vision. He wanted nothing more than to hunt this bastard down and give him a long bloody lesson in what happened to people who hurt his friends.

Shinji didn't seem to think it was as sensational as it sounded. "He wasn't trying to push me through the window," he explained, as if that was the important part. "He just hit me and I lost balance and I happened to be right next to the glass. I was lucky I didn't get cut up more than I did, but after that, he avoided me. That's not surprising. He graduated pretty soon after that, so I haven't seen him since. Looking back on it, I think it was mostly my fault . . . ."

"Shinji!" Kamio's sharp tone brought the dark-haired boy's attention back to him. "You can't help it if you're not attracted to someone," Kamio said, modulating his tone. "I can understand his frustration – who wouldn't want you? – but he was way out of line getting angry like that. I'm really sorry you had to go through something like that."

"I'm glad Kato-san was nice," Shinji said after a moment. "I probably came off like I didn't like him, but that's just because he surprised me and I don't know him like you do. I can apologize to him if you want, although I don't think he should have been all over you like that if you aren't going out anymore. But maybe that's just how he is, and if he was good to you, I should have been more polite."

Kamio made a face. "Nah, he was being kind of jerk right then, I don't know why. He used to get kind of territorial, it was sort of a problem sometimes, but usually he's pretty cool. But you don't need to like him or anything. I mean, we're not together now. So there's no reason to force yourself."

They got ready for bed silently, companionably, thoughtfully. It was only after the lights were out and they lay next to each other that Kamio spoke again.

"I was really lonely, Shinji," he whispered. "And everything hurt. But you were the same way, right?"

Shinji didn't answer, but Kamio felt him move closer in the bed, press his forehead against Kamio's back as Kamio had done that first night to Shinji.

"Is it okay?" Shinji asked hesitantly. "Can I -?"

Kamio nodded into his pillow, some of the tension leaving his body. It kept being painful at unexpected moments, but it didn't feel hopeless. Wherever it was, exactly, that they were going . . . they were getting there.

He was half asleep when he felt Shinji slide a tentative arm around his waist; and although he wasn't aware of it, he fell asleep smiling.

_--_

Kamio woke lazily, enjoying the feel of morning sun falling over him. He felt content and warm, and it took him a minute to realize that both those facts were because someone was asleep half sprawled over him, hair spilling out across his chest, arm wrapped loosely across him, face nestled in the crook of his collarbone.

"Oi," Kamio whispered, smiling, poking him gently in the shoulder with a finger. Never a morning person, Shinji just sighed and buried his face more firmly into Kamio's neck, nose rubbing against skin bared by his t-shirt's collar, and breath sighing out in a soft wet whisper.

And then Kamio wasn't so much _content_ as _aroused_, and the urge to wake Shinji with a kiss designed to show him just how nice contact could be, was instant and a little overwhelming. Yes, there were still reasons why they should be taking this very slowly, but it was amazing how fast they faded into vagueness when compared with a warm, lithe body half draped over him.

"Shinji," Kamio hissed, trying not to squirm.

"Mm?" This time Kamio's voice got through to him, and Shinji's eyes drowsily blinked open to meet Kamio's slightly panicked ones.

There was one moment of pleasure in his dark eyes before surprise replaced it, and a light blush spread over Shinji's cheeks. But Shinji didn't move away like Kamio had half-expected to him. Instead, very quietly, very obviously asking a question, he lifted one hand to cup it against the side of Kamio's face.

Kamio shuddered – and now aroused wasn't even the word for it. He wanted to throw Shinji down and drive every memory of the past out of him, and he wanted it so badly that the very violence of his desire was what stopped him. Even if Shinji responded in kind, it wasn't the way he wanted things to be. He didn't want it to be about possession or jealousy, and he didn't want it to be just sex, either.

"Shinji," he whispered, daring to slide a thumb against the other boy's mouth, lips, "I just don't want to mess this up. Okay?"

Shinji half closed his eyes, leaning into Kamio's light touch, gaze under his lashes soft, open, fixed on Kamio's expression. Then slowly he nodded, withdrew his hand and moved off of Kamio.

"Okay." Kamio grinned weakly. "Then, I, uh, should really go to the bathroom."

_Well,_ Kamio consoled himself minutes later as he frantically stroked himself in the privacy of the bathroom, _at least he seems to like touching me._

_--_

It was Saturday and a rare day when everyone on the team had something to do that didn't revolve around tennis, or at least tennis and Shinji. Which meant Shinji was wearing street clothes, one of Atobe's devastatingly attractive hand-me-downs. Kamio had never cursed or thanked the nonchalant generosity of Tachibana's boyfriend so much before. The memory of Shinji's body against his was still fresh enough that he would have preferred it if Shinji had picked one of his old-style, loose, baggy outfits – or better yet, something completely formless, something as far away from the sleek black capris and pale, slinky shirt as possible.

It didn't help matters when the first thing he saw when he automatically checked his phone was mail from Kato suggesting lunch. It wasn't the best timing – possibly no timing would be, except maybe if it was twenty years in the future – but Kato would be worried about him and Kamio owed him a frank explanation. There was nothing romantic between them now, but they were still friends and Kamio held those highly; he didn't want to lose Kato's casual but supportive presence unless it was really necessary.

"That's okay," Shinji said neutrally when Kamio hesitantly mentioned it. "It's been a long time. You must have things to catch up on. I can go to the street courts and practice until you're finished."

Shinji seemed to be keeping to his word of not being jealous. Kamio gave his arm a quick brush of thanks. "I don't think it should take too long," he promised. "We'll just catch up a bit, you know? And then . . . I can swing by the streets courts afterward and why don't we play a few games, 'kay? It's about time I get to test out all this "progress" I keep hearing about."

He asked impulsively, because something had changed since the day before, and Shinji - looking surprised and then pleased - agreed for probably the same reason. "I won't be so easy to beat this time," he warned.

"Heh, then should we say the winner gets treated to dinner?" Kamio smirked.

He was surprised when Shinji just nodded. "I don't mind taking you to dinner," he said seriously. "We could go to a movie, too. Ishida said there was a good one on now."

Kamio stared at Shinji, feeling the blush work its way across his face. Was Shinji asking him on a date?

_Oh._

Then . . . he should stop gaping and answer.

"Yeah," he said belatedly but with a sincere grin, "yeah, that sounds good. Definitely."

* * *

_Next: of course things don't go quite that simply . . . . Angst! Drama! and- The End . . . .!_

...

Omake:

Atobe: Ore-sama demands to know why I wasn't included in this chapter!

Tachibana: Keigo, they spent half of the scenes in bed this time.

Atobe: . . . . your point?

Tachibana: I . . . think I'll go play tennis now. And then take a cold shower . . . . .

...

_Hopeakaarme: WJKZLFI YES! Tachibanatobe for the WIN! Can't wait to read your stories when I'm not paying through the nose for every internet minute . . . ._

_serenitatis417: sigh, I've lost all ability to be sardonic lately but as thanks for all the reviews, hai I'll update HijiOki with . . . something or other . . . soon. :Dv  
_

_gee2312: Hope this chapter made you smile, too!_


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: Oshitari would, while pointing out that the author does not own either Prince of Tennis or the premise of this story, like to express his appreciation for the outrageously gushy melodrama that occurs in this part.

RATING: This one's rated **Teen** just to be on the safe side, due to vague but prevalent happy ending stuff. Hm, well, _tha__t_ just spoiled all the suspense . . . .

WARNINGS: Kamio's vocabulary. Long monologues. Sap. Kids At Home: Please do not attempt to solve relationship issues in the following manner unless you are Prince of Tennis characters with a long history of UST (are there are PoT characters who don't have a history of UST? You could probably convincingly prove that, like, Kaidou and _Aoi_ have UST . . . . uhh, that's a horrible image . . . . . )

PAIRINGS: Nothin' but Shinji/Kamio, baby!

A/N: Finally back to internet access! I'm nervous about this chapter but seriously without a crisis Kamio's never going to get _anywhere_. So after six chapters of muted freaking out, Akira finally gets his very own full-throttle meltdown - but chances are he's going to end up with more than a hug . . . .

Thanks for reading everyone & I hope it's a satisfying finish!

* * *

Finding Shinji

* * *

Part Seven

rain; revelations; resolution

* * *

"Akira!" Kato waved in welcome from a booth and Kamio jogged over, pulling out his earphones and looping them around his neck.

"You're smiling," Kato observed as Kamio slid into the booth, absently tapping out the lingering rhythm on the tabletop. "It's not because of me, is it."

"Ah, what?" Kamio blinked, coming back to the here and now, instead of the courts and Shinji.

"Oh, sorry," he said, flushing. "'Course I'm glad to see you, now that you're not acting like an _ass._"

Kato pulled an apologetic expression. "Yeah, my bad. Just thought it would be fun to piss you off after all this time. Didn't expect Mr. Fairytale Prince to be watching. Speaking of which . . . ." A little less jovially, he made a show of looking around Kamio.

"What?" Kamio hunched uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"Just . . . no watchdog today?" Kato asked in mock surprise. "I'm surprised he let you out of his sight – or the other way around."

"Don't start again on that, Kato," Kamio frowned, annoyed at the not quite pleasant teasing. "Shinji wanted to apologize for acting standoffish yesterday."

Kato raised his eyebrows. "Standoffish? Is that a new definition for 'acting like he wants to dismember someone'?"

"If you don't stop acting like this, _I'm_ going to want to dismember you," Kamio growled. "Come on, there's no reason to be this way."

Unexpectedly, Kato slumped a little. "Ah, you're right, sorry, sorry," he admitted, the almost bitter banter gone from his voice. "I guess it just got my hackles up, suddenly seeing the guy who hurt you so much."

"You know he was only part of what was going on back then," Kamio sighed. "I probably would have been a mess even without him leaving. Hell, I might have been _more_ of mess."

"You would have been a mess and then been _with_ him," Kato corrected lightly, but with a searching look. "I'm a little confused why you don't – quite – seem to be right now. Or am I wrong? He obviously wants it. _You_ obviously want it."

Kamio shifted a little helplessly under the direct question. "We've – I mean, it would be so easy to just dive in, but we've both got some baggage, you know? I just thought taking it slow would be – safer."

"And he agrees?"

"I think Shinji . . . I think he's leaving it up to me," Kamio said hesitantly.

Kato snorted. "Arrogant, isn't he?" he said not quite humorlessly. "There aren't many people who would be that secure in knowing what they want is coming to them. Especially after throwing it away once already."

"That's not fair," Kamio said sharply.

"You mean it _is _fair but you don't care," Kato corrected, waving a languid hand. "But it's no problem with me. I mean, every minute you're not officially taken is another minute I could use to win you back, right?"

Kamio stared at him. "Kato . . . ."

Kato's expression didn't waver. "Hm, no chance?" he said at last, not sounding exactly surprised. "You should do something about it then, Akira. Things like this don't happen everyday. It's not like you haven't been waiting. . . ."

"I just –"

"Well, that's a discussion for another time," Kato said cheerfully, sudden seriousness switching off. "Right now, I'm in desperate need of someone to fill me in on what happened to Suichi-kun in Chem class. Did he manage to confess to Matsuki-chan? I've been wondering the whole time I was banished abroad."

"Ah, that . . . . " Kamio managed a laugh, shaking off the odd chill – or thrill – that Kato's earlier words had created. "Yeah, you missed a great story. He kept trying and trying and it never worked! By the end of the semester, half of the school was involved in it. It was like something out of a manga . . . ."

In the end, he was never sure how it had happened. The last weeks had been all Shinji, nothing but a sweet, painful reality of Shinji. He honestly hadn't realized how much of the rest of his life he had put aside to make time for the more important cause of the dark-haired boy. School, his classmates, preparation for tennis club, even tv dramas he usually watched, songs he listened to . . . he had nearly forgotten them all in his haste to cement Shinji back into his life.

Now, prodded by the questions and typically whimsical, introspective comments of Kato, he gradually remembered the life he had been leading up until Shinji's return. It was nice, relaxing, blessedly _uncomplicated_ to talk to someone who didn't unconsciously make everything else seem unimportant in comparison.

And as he found himself doing any time he let his guards down thesedays, without being aware of it, Kamio fell asleep.

"-Ah, did I nod off?" he asked sleepily, wincing at the crick in his neck from lying on the table. "Sorry, I keep doing that. You should have woken me up."

Kato casually snapped shut his cell and shook his head. "I had mail to answer anyway, and you looked like you needed the rest. You seriously fell over in the middle of a sentence. It was like some gag, except then you started snoring."

"Mm," Kamio shook his head to chase away the last bits of fog. "I swear, I can't get my brain to turn off lately. Obviously I should have been talking to you."

"I'm glad to offer my patented brain-numbing effect anytime." Kamio stretched casually, popping his back. "So I was going to suggest we go somewhere else for dinner, but it's raining pretty hard, so maybe we should just stay and order here? You fell asleep in your sandwich earlier, anyhow."

"Dinner?" Kamio frowned, turning to squint at the window. Sure enough, a patter of rain coated the window, barely visible in the gathering dusk.

"_Shit!" _

"Akira, what's wrong?" Kato asked worriedly as Kamio jumped up, scrabbling for money in his pocket.

"Shit, how long was I out?! I promised to meet Shinji at the street courts after lunch - I told him it would only be a couple of hours! What time is it?"

Face serious, Kato checked his phone. "Past six – can you call him?"

"He doesn't have a cell yet. Dammit!"

"Akira – " Kato's hand stopped him as he turned for the door. "I didn't do this on purpose," he said sincerely.

Kamio gave him a pained smile. "I know. It's my fault. Look, I'll call you sometime, okay?"

He was already running before he heard the answer.

_--_

Kamio was fast, he knew that, but the last time he had raced for Shinji he hadn't been fast enough, and although the situation was different this time, it felt enough the same to send him in a blaze of panic.

He reached the street courts, and pounded up the stairs, sliding in the puddles; sprinted across the doubles court, skidding so hard on the slick surface that he went sprawling, scrambled back up cursing, and pelted to the other side where Shinji would be – Shinji might be– should be – _shouldn't_ be– waiting . . . .

The tennis ball made a muted, squelching noise as it struck the dripping wall and bounced limply back to meet the racket, both ball and racket leaving tails of rain with every movement. Shinji's hair was heavy and black with water, his shirt turned nearly see-through, his face pale as wax, expression blank as he automatically hit the ball to the same spot over and over in the downpour.

Something clenched hard in Kamio's chest at the sight.

"Shinji! Shit, you're so wet. Shinji, you shouldn't have – shit, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Kamio babbled, skidding to an awkward halt. "I didn't meant to – I was talking and I fell – Kato didn't know to wake me – I should have given you my cell in case –"

Slowly, Shinji blinked at him, movements sluggish. Kamio grabbed his free hand, hissing at the chill feel of the fingers.

"Dammit, you're freezing," Kamio cursed. "How long has it been raining? You're going to catch your death of cold. I'm such an idiot. Shinji. Say _something_."

"Akira." Shinji's voice was almost dreamy, a mix of his usual monotone and something very different that cut through the rain and went straight into Kamio like acid.

"Yeah," Kamio said hoarsely, "I'm here. You need to get out of the rain, though." He tugged a little at Shinji's hand, but Shinji resisted, not moving.

"Akira," he said again, and somehow despite everything he should be doing, saying, Kamio could only think how Shinji's eyes were the same color as the rain drenched evening, "why did I come back? Why did you want me back? Whatever you answer, I'll stay, but . . . Akira. . . . " – and Kamio flinched at his own name, without quite knowing why, and had no idea what he would have said if Shinji hadn't continued – "If it's not now that's okay," he said softly, "but I don't want to be like Kato-san. I don't want to be not-together with you. Even if we don't touch, I want to be together. Before I wasn't sure you – but now I know and I can wait, but I need to know if we can –"

The flow of disjointed words was cut off as Kamio pulled him into a fierce hug. "Idiot," he whispered huskily. "Of course we're together. It's – it's scary how together we are. I haven't felt like this with anyone else – there's never been anyone else like this, Shinji. I--"

"Akira . . . ."

Shinji kissed first, but only by a fraction of a second, because Kamio had had enough of this so-called maturity. He wanted this, had wanted it for years and was reasonably certain he would never stop wanting it. Shinji's lips were icy from the rain, his mouth hot – and it should have been a desperate or passionate kiss, after such a buildup, but as Kamio molded his soaking body to Shinji's shivering frame, all he could think was that he was touching something pure, an emotion simply _right. _

They stood locked that way until the chill of the rain grew deep enough even to overcome the warmth of closeness.

Kamio felt as if he were the one who had caught a fever when they finally pulled away from each other. His pulse raced in a rhythm that was almost too fast, too strong, the echo overpowering even the thunder of the rain, and Shinji's tentative smile made him both grin and feel dizzy.

They walked home, Kamio unable to stop from taking Shinji's hand, unable to let go even when they got a few stares along the way. Shinji followed meekly, grip as tight on Kamio's hand as Kamio's was on his, and it was not quite funny how the touch both calmed him and sent ragged tension shooting his head, his body -

They toweled off, changed clothes, without speaking – not that Kamio would have been able to hear anything anyway, not with how loud his heartbeat was thudding in his chest. He might have tried to say something anyhow, but Shinji said it first.

"Akira-" He didn't even have time to prepare before Shinji kissed him again.

And once again it felt so clean, so right and he was kissing back longer and harder and it was so right and closing the miniscule gap between their bodies and it was _so right_– and suddenly Kamio was terrified, more petrified than he had ever been in his life.

He pulled jerkily away, trying to calm his stuttering heart.

"Akira?"

Backing away from Shinji's questioning tone, Kamio gulped in huge lungfuls of air, trying to push back the sudden tide of dizzying panic.

Oh shit. He hadn't realized it before. But now he understood with devastating, terrified clarity-

All that talk about how he wanted to take it slow for Shinji's sake – that had all been crap, he saw that now. Shinji was _ready_; there was absolutely no fear in those dark eyes. It was _Kamio_ who was scared out of his mind. Not because he wasn't sure he wanted this, but because he knew he wanted it, so badly that if it got taken away again he wasn't going to be able to deal. This time there would be no confusion, no kind senpai to understand and help him come to terms with himself. This time there would be no more discoveries left to make, save just how far he would fall if Shinji left again.

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. "I can't. I thought I could but – I - not yet – I can't. I - I don't know what's wrong with me," he laughed half hysterically, because he was screwing things up but he couldn't _stop_ -

Shinji was looking at him with something like understanding.

"You never got angry," Shinji said softly but resolutely, and Kamio turned to stare wild-eyed at him, as if he were speaking a foreign language. What was Shinji talking about? What did that have to do with anything?

"After that first punch," Shinji clarified, "you haven't ever been angry. That's not right. Even if you understand everything, you should still be angry. You deserve that. You've been so worried about me, treating me like I'm about to break. I've been really selfish, letting you act that way, when really I should be the one trying to make you feel better. I'm sorry."

Sorry. Shinji kept having to say that. Kamio didn't want him to say that. It just reminded him of all the shit they had been through. He didn't want to think about that. He just wanted it to be over, to be fixed. He was sick of hearing Shinji say he was sorry.

"Why should I be angry?" Kamio said, trying to fight down the bitter surge of acid. "I mean, I am – I was - but I understand, so I can't – Shinji, you're important, so I can't be – _because I understand. _ I can't scream or yell cause I understand, I really do. I want this and I forgive you and _I'm not_ _angry_, dammit!"

He realized he was yelling, right in Shinji's face, like a hysterical child even though he loved him, breathed him, wanted nothing more than to be with him, but somehow he couldn't stop yelling, couldn't stop the broken words and broken feelings from tumbling out.

"You were upset, you were _shamed,_ you cared more about a stupid game than you did about your friends, about _me. _Well, that was your choice, right? If you had stayed I would have been happier – so what? If you had stayed I would have kissed you when I realized it wasn't right with An-chan, I would have had my first time with you instead of some sleaze at a bar when I was too confused to put up a fight. If you had stayed we would have gone to Nationals our last year and we would have goddamn won it all and _who cares!_ Because none of that happened, so what's the point – _what's the goddamn point – _of worrying about it now! What's the fucking point of spending every day worrying about whether you're going to leave _again_? How is that going to help anything? How is being terrified that you're going to leave me alone again going to help? Tell me how, Shinji. Tell me!"

Breath coming in ragged gasps, Kamio succumbed to his trembling legs and slid down the wall to half crouch, half collapse on the ground. His heart was beating an erratic rhythm of panic and fury and pain and nothing had ever hurt quite so intensely before, because he had been holding it together so long that now it was so shattered it crumbled him.

"Shinji," he gasped into his shaking hands, covering his crying face, "tell me how to do this because I've been trying but I don't _know_. . . ."

Gentle hands took his and carefully moved them away from his face, and he flinched and looked up wildly, because Shinji was what he wanted most and was most afraid of, and he felt like he might crack being close to him, but without him he would certainly be crushed.

"I don't know what to do about a lot of that," Shinji said seriously, eyes dark and earnest, voice sincere. "If I could cut off a finger or perform some punishment to make it better, I would. But the only punishment I can think of is not being able to see you – and I can't think of any reason cutting off a finger would help much in the first place. I won't leave. I don't know any way to make you believe that, except by showing you and that will take time. I was in love with you before I left, you know. I knew you weren't, that's okay you couldn't help it and neither could I. So I was just waiting for the day you noticed and rejected me, each day I watched you and waited, until finally I ran away. But now I don't care. I don't care how you feel. You can hate me if you want. You can curse me, you can say you never want to see me again. I still won't leave. There's nothing you can do to make me leave, Akira. So it's okay to get mad and yell. You always used to do that anyhow. You can hit me, you can say whatever you want. You can kick me out of this apartment and I'll come beg at your door every day until you forgive me, even if it takes years. I'll do anything you want. I'll stay if you let me. I'll stay even if you don't. I'll track down that guy in the bar and hit him. Whatever you want, even if it takes a long time for you to figure out what it is you do want, that doesn't matter. I'll wait for you to decide for as long as it takes. Nothing else matters except for you, Akira. Nothing else means much to me, so whatever you want, as long as you let me stay by you, I'll do it."

Kamio gave a compulsive sob. "Anything I want?" he gasped, brokenly, gripping Shinji's wrists hard enough to bruise, unable to stop.

"Aa, anything."

Kamio swallowed another sob, made a decision he had no idea whether was right except that he wanted it and wanted it more than anything in years, and _not_ having it certainly hadn't been making anything better. "I want you to show me," he whispered shakily. "Show me you mean what you say. Shinji, kiss me. Show me. Forget about everything else. I'm so tired of being careful and scared, so just right now . . . show me - show me what we should be –"

And then Shinji's mouth was on his, his hands were twined around Kamio as frantically as Kamio's clawed against him; and it was just as desperate as Kamio had not wanted it to be, but it was just as true as he had needed it to feel.

_--_

At some point, they had made it to the bed.

Shinji was covered in scratches, Kamio realized. He reached out a shaky finger and traced one long red line. "Did I do that? 'm sorry . . . ."

Shinji didn't answer, just smoothed a hand against Kamio's salt-stained face, nodded like Kamio had said something completely different. "Are you still panicking?"

"Only a little," Kamio sighed, not quite up to joking yet.

"Still confused?"

"Waiting to be, I guess. . . . Not about you, though, but – "

But Shinji was smiling at that, really smiling, and that made Kamio forget what he was going to say because he had already said the most important part anyway.

Shinji bent down and Kamio was immersed in the scent of his dark hair and this time when they kissed, there was no panic or pain, just comfort and strength. They wound around each other gently, and this time Kamio didn't sob as he came, just breathed Shinji's name almost reverently, and heard Shinji say his in return like it was the only word in the world that existed for him.

Later, as they lay still pressed as close as possible, Kamio sighed into Shinji's heartbeat. "I'm still not over it," he admitted. "I'm sorry, I think – it'll take a while."

"There's lots of time," Shinji reminded him. "All you need. All you want."

"Mm. Promise?"

"Aa."

Kamio snuggled more firmly into Shinji's grip. "Talk to me," he sleepily asked. "I want to hear your voice."

So Shinji talked, words blending into a soft sort of lullaby, as familiar to Kamio as sun or tennis or breathing.

And Kamio fell asleep and dreamed without being afraid of what the next day would bring.

_--_

It was deja vu, but in a really good way, when Kamio awoke to find Shinji sprawled over him, this time already awake and watching him with a soft possessive look that said so clearly that he wasn't going anywhere; and Kamio had to wonder just how long that look had been there – perhaps from the start – and whether the look he had imagined to be there instead, had in fact been what Shinji had seen in Kamio's own eyes all this time.

Whatever Shinji saw now seemed to satisfy him, and with a pleased noise he stopped looking and started kissing as soon as he confirmed Kamio was indeed awake. He might have kissed him before then, too, because Kamio's body was certainly more alert than his mind.

"I don't have to stop this time, right?" Shinji asked smugly, and it had been so long since Kamio had heard that completely confident tone, that he'd almost forgotten just how deadly appealing Shinji was when he was ruthlessly in control.

"Mmmmmphf," Kamio replied, because Shinji hadn't bothered to wait for an answer and was kissing him again.

"We have to practice," he managed more articulately a few minutes later when Shinji ran out of breath.

"Aa," the dark-haired boy agreed amiably and kissed him again.

"No – I mean – mmmmmmm - tennis practice –" Between kisses, Kamio pulled Shinji forward so he rested more comfortably against him. "They'll be – _ah, right there_ -waiting for us– "

"I called and canceled this morning," Shinji said blandly, moving down bite at his neck. "Because you were tired." He nipped happily at Kamio's collarbone and slid one hand lower.

It was some minutes after that before Kamio could be coherent enough to continue the conversation.

"Okay," he gasped, "but we've got to show up before lunch."

Shinji didn't answer because he was busy.

"Or after lunch. Sometime in the _god Shinji! _in the afternoon. Maybe. . . . "

_--_

Eventually, they almost made it out the door. After several false starts, they had agreed to the drastic measure of dressing in separate rooms so as to be able to get clothes all the way on without the other one being tempted to get said clothes back off.

Kamio was cautiously optimistic (as well as giddy and sore and ecstatic and dazed and a little confused because he still _wasn't_ confused at all, and was riding the best damn rhythm of his life) until he saw just what Shinji had chosen to wear.

"You _did_ know what that shirt does to me!" Kamio accused, eyeing the clinging white temptation. "You were just pretending not to notice how much I wanted to rip it off you every time you wore it!"

Shinji looked faintly smug. "I like this shirt," he said. "I don't want you to rip it off."

"Then you'd better take it off _fast_," Kamio grinned, and tackled him.

"I thought you wanted to go practice," Shinji said innocently from the floor as Kamio straddled him.

"I decided you're right –" Kamio leaned over for a long satisfied kiss. "This kind of practice is definitely more important."

At the next convenient moment, Shinji reached up and slid his fingers softly along Kamio's face. "Akira will always be more important," he said seriously. "_Most_ important."

"Shinji," Kamio said fondly. "Shirt off. Now."

Oh yeah, the _best_ damn rhythm.

And it was here to stay.

_--_

Epilogue

"Kamio-kun! Shinji! What happened to you yesterday!" An remonstrated as they crossed over the courts to where she and Kirihara were warming up.

"Ah, sorry about yesterday, we were – " Kamio hesitated, because _obsessively making out_ wasn't something you wanted to say to your old girlfriend, and _working through things_ sounded, in context, rather obscene and _blowing each other's minds_ would probably make him start to laugh like an idiot. "- busy," he ended up lamely, well aware that he was probably grinning and beside him Shinji was _definitely_ smirking.

An, hesitated, took one long look at them and heaved a thankful sigh. "Oh, _finally_," she said sincerely "Thank god, the stress was killing me."

"Damn, me too and I didn't even _care_," Kirihara added from the other court.

An was already pulling out her cell phone. "I've got to tell Fujiko! And Oniichan! And the team – I think Mori won the betting pool – and and finally! Finally!"

Blushing, Kamio shot a half embarrassed, half amused look at Shinji. "Something tells me we're going to get that reaction a lot today . . . . You want to play a game while An-chan is telling the entire world about us?"

Shinji looked at him. "Do you mind if she tells the whole world?" he asked curiously.

Kamio thought about it, shook his head goofily. "Not at all."

"Good." Looking satisfied, Shinji took his head and led him past Kirihara (who was busy making kissy faces and fake-gagging) to the other court. "Because for most people it's none of their business, but the team has been really worried about this, just like An-chan, so they should know, not that it's not going to be obvious even if we didn't tell them; but also other people like Kato should know, because if he tries to hug you again like last time, now I'll be well within my rights to hit him with my tennis racket, although if I do then you'll get mad at me, which I won't like, even though it won't stop me from hitting him - "

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Laughing, Kamio freed himself from Shinji's grip and jogged over to face him across the net.

"Should I go easy on you?" he teased, as Shinji prepared to serve.

His only answer was a perfect kick serve – and the game was on.

For the first time, they were both home.

Together.

_--_

_--_

_--_

the end!

* * *

OMAKE:

Team Fudoumine: AWWWWWWWW (heart)!

Mori: A happy ending! : _p__ockets winnings:_

Uchimura: You're so treating us to lunch, you know.

Sakurai: --Hey! This was the last chapter? Why weren't we in it?!

Ishida: Well, Akira was sort of busy majorly freaking out . . . .

Sakurai: We got to all group hug Shinji when _he_ freaked out! Are you saying we shouldn't support Kamio, too?

Mori: . . . I think this time there was more than hugging involved . . . .

Sakurai: But what about group unity? I mean, if it's for the team - Right, Tachibana-san?

Tachibana: Uh . . . .

Atobe: The entire team, hey? The logistics would require a certain amount of organization, but . . . . .

Tachibana: UH . . . .

An: Oh, are we having a team activity? Count me in!

Tachibana: :choking noises: . . . _NO!_

An: Aw.

Team Fudoumine: Aw.

Uchimura: But at least we've still got Akira.

Kamio: Uh, what?

Shinji: _:brandishes tennis racket:_ I don't know if I like this conversation. For one thing, with this many people as soon as things get energetic someone is going to get kicked in the face or crushed, and that's dangerous and embarrassing to explain at the hospital. Also, I just got Akira to myself and I don't want to share. I know good teammates do share, but I don't think that applies to boyfriends. There are lots of things Akira and I still haven't done yet, and I don't want one of you doing them first, because if he liked it better with you that would be really annoying, and anyway – Akira? Why is your nose bleeding like that?

Kamio: Uh, no, no reason . . . Shinji, put down the tennis racket, okay? . . .

Kirihara: So, group orgy or what?

Atobe: I wonder if my team will get jealous if I don't involve them . . . . What, is it, Kippei? Perhaps we need to bring Fuji over here to give you a talk, aan?

Tachibana: . . . . maybe I should just move back to Kyuushuu . . . . .

* * *

_StarryNight: Ha ha, _that_ foursome? With Kamio spazzing and trying not to look at anything he's touching, and Shinji mumbling about how with four people the formation is really complicated and how if he gets pushed off the bed he's going to be really annoyed; and Atobe directing everything, and Tachibana caught between being aghast and really __really pleased . . . .  
_

_Serenitatis417: Yeah, you said it, good ol' Fudoumine angst . . . ._

_Hopeakaarme: Oh oh that shirt --!_

_;DD: No, no dark endings :)v Mostly because I can't think of any attempt of Kato's to woo Kamio away that doesn't end in ten seconds with Shinji hitting him in the face with a tennis racket ;D  
_

_gee2312: Yeah, poor Kamio - but at least he finally got a happy ending :)_

_GataAqua:Well, there __was _going_ to be a date, before Kamio _freaked._ Hope this way was okay, too!_


End file.
